


Love in the Time of Corypheus

by SaibraRutherford (ScottishVix)



Series: Once We Were [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Lyrium Withdrawal, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 73,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottishVix/pseuds/SaibraRutherford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saibra Trevelyan was a shy, Circle mage, thrust into circumstances she never could have dreamed of. Who else could she lean on when it all becomes too much than our favourite ex-Templar?</p>
<p>This is my first long fanfic but Saibra and Cullen just wouldn't leave me alone until I started to write it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Now with art.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Please be kind. This is my first real attempt at writing something fictional and I don't have a beta so constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Look! [Ineffable Witch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableWitch) did me a beautiful piece of art for Cullen and Sai!
> 
>  

It was her startling eyes that caught his attention first. The bluest he had ever seen, wide and bright. Glossy chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight bun, but a few curls too short to reach the knot had been left to frame her face, softening it and highlighting the porcelain of her skin. The green-tinged glow emanating from her left hand was a distant second to the pools of her eyes.

She was shy of them. Going from being a prisoner to a saviour in what, for her, must have seemed a matter of hours would have been enough to daunt almost anyone. He tried not to stare at the blushing girl and make his own gaze as kind as possible. A skittish mage was a dangerous mage, and she had done nothing yet to merit his suspicion. When Cassandra introduced him as the leader of their forces, he knew his smile was a wry one. Their forces amounted to very little at the moment, as he was honest enough to tell her.

Her voice, when she spoke, was the cut glass of a well-bred Marcher lady, but soft. Their impressive titles awed a girl who was only a minor noble and had spent more than half her life shut away in a Circle, first as an apprentice then as a newly harrowed mage.

His intention to appear friendly was dashed when he and Leliana almost immediately began rehashing their argument over who would be the most help in closing the Breach–mages or Templars. Ever the peacemaker, Lady Montilyet jumped in to point out that neither would be much good if they would not speak to the Inquisition.

“They still think I did it?” Saibra could hear the despair breaking in her own voice. What more could she do to prove to the world that she was not the person behind this? There could be no greater sin than to kill the Divine! But when Josephine explained the whole truth…

“How am I the Herald of Andraste?” Shock cut through her shyness. They could not be serious! Andraste had declared that magic was made to serve man. A mage could not be her messenger. The wonderfully cultured Ambassador must have made a mistake.

“Quite a title, isn’t it?” Cullen couldn’t keep the twist of dry humour out of his voice. If this shy woman–girl, really–was awestruck by their titles, how much worse would the one others had given her seem? “How do feel about that?”

“It’s a little unsettling,” Saibra admitted quietly. “Could we be attacked?” Another mark in her favour. Her concern was not for herself, but the village and the people sheltering in it. He recalled vaguely from Leliana’s report on the girl that while the Trevelyan family’s official motto was “Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed”, the branch she came from also had an unofficial one that was something to do with duty over self. She might have been ensconced in a Circle since she was 8, but that would have been drilled into her since before she could speak.

His assurances seemed to help. A little tension went out of her, but he could almost hear the nervous magic thrumming from her small figure, a doe about to take flight. She must be stronger than she looked, to stand her ground and keep her voice steady when she so clearly felt out of her depth.

Saibra was relieved when Leliana told her about Mother Giselle’s request to speak with her. She would happily busy herself with something useful. Better than sitting round the village waiting to see who would denounce her publicly next. But it wasn’t over yet. Leliana explained the purpose of the War Table. 

“You want me to decide what tasks we should send our recruits to do? And the best method for doing it? I’ve been a Circle mage my entire life! I’ve never made any decision more important than which robes to wear in the morning!”

The Commander let out a barking laugh at that, making the nervy Herald jump. He may be an ex-Templar, but she thought he had probably been one of the kinder ones. He had done everything he could to put her at ease. And as an ex-Templar he was probably the one member of the Council who knew how much truth there was to her startled outburst. 

“You are simply the best one to break any stalemate between us,” he explained gently, golden eyes still warm. “We all get the same reports, but our different areas of expertise mean that we all prefer different methods of dealing with them. And, at least some of the time, you’ll be the one to act on them.”

“You would simply be the deciding vote on the Council,” Josephine added in her most soothing voice, picking up on his intentions. “Each of us is always convinced that our ideas are best. We need someone neutral to cast the deciding vote.”

“I can be a peacemaker,” Saibra said thoughtfully, “if that is what is needed?”

“It would be a great help,” Leliana promised. “We have a few here now,” she gestured to a small stack of papers on the corner of the table. “If you’re willing?”

And that was how they spent the afternoon. There was nothing too difficult to deal with. A bigoted nobleman wanting refugees driven off his land and demanding the Inquisition be the ones to do it. Distant relatives of hers trying to gain from the fledgling Herald of Andraste legend. Ways for them to raise coin to pay for the Inquisition’s upkeep. A Teyrn wishing the Inquisition’s blessing for a vigil to mark Divine Justinia’s passing. As time went on, Saibra lost the hunted, frightened look she had been wearing. The soft voice grew stronger, more confident in her decisions. The advisors’ encouragement went a long way to help and by the time the meeting broke for supper, Saibra felt they truly trusted her. 

But as she walked away, she couldn’t help reflecting on the golden eyes of the tall, wry Commander.

……………………………………………

“Well,” Leliana asked after Lady Saibra had left them, “what do we make of her?”

“She is well-mannered, presentable, if a little shy. If she can be taught to hide her nerves, she could be a great asset to us as we try to build alliances with the nobility.” Josephine didn't even look up from her writing board while making her assessment. Cullen couldn't imagine what she could be constantly writing.

“I’m a little more concerned with her ability to handle herself in the field,” Cullen admitted. “I’m not happy about sending someone out into a warzone if they can’t protect themselves. And if she is the only one who can close these rifts then she will be needed out there.”

“I would not be worried on that account, Commander.” Cassandra’s voice held no doubt. “She handled herself admirably against the demons at the Temple. She has a good barrier and can throw lightening and fire with the best of them. She will be fine.”

“And her decisions today have been balanced and fair. I think she will be an adequate temporary leader until we decide on a permanent Inquisitor.”


	2. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Saibra avoiding the Commander? Can Cullen convince her to spend some time with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta, so all mistakes are mine. Constructive criticism welcome.

While Leliana’s scouts headed to the Hinterlands in search of Mother Giselle, Saibra spent the next few days getting to know Haven and the surrounding area.

It was also a good time to get to know her new comrades. Most of the people of Haven avoided her out of either fear or reverence. The few who had to deal with her – Smith Harritt, Quartermaster Threnn, Alchemist Adan and the magical researcher Minaeve spoke to her with a respect mingled with bitterness. They had their own troubled pasts to contend with.

But those who had been with her at the Temple of Sacred Ashes were her greatest source of comfort. Varric, she discovered, had a dry sense of humour and always told outrageous stories that could make her smile whenever she began to doubt herself. Solas was a font of wisdom, tutoring her in magic she could never have dreamed of at Ostwick but now vital for her own preservation. Cassandra shared Saibra's habit of being her own worst critic–Saibra wondered if that was a flaw all nobly-born female warriors had. Josephine was warm and far friendlier than any diplomat she had ever met before.

There were only two she avoided. 

Leliana’s grief at the loss of Divine Justinia had made her bitter. The sharpness of her tongue frightened Saibra, whose shyness increased tenfold in the face of such barely tempered anger and her devotion to Andraste was hurt by the obvious cynicism of one who had clearly once been as devout as herself. After she caught Leliana railing at the Maker for not saving Justinia, she avoided the redheaded spymaster where possible.

The other was the golden-eyed Commander. She saw him every time she made a trip to the smithy to be fitted for her new armour or left the camp to hunt druffalo and nugs, drilling the recruits and accepting reports from scouts. His men clearly idolised him.

She dismissed the thought that she was avoiding him because he had once been a Templar. She had experienced only kindness or indifference from the Templars at Ostwick, though she knew others had not been so fortunate. Until the war. But even then, the fact she was only six months past her harrowing and her noble birth had kept her from the worst of it, shielded by her sister’s retainers until the conclave. She was not one to fear the Templars.

Maybe it had more to do with the fact she was aware of his awareness of her. Whatever he was doing, whenever she passed she felt those bright eyes on her, like an arrow through her soul. The intent wasn’t malicious, she could sense that much, but the attention made her shyness worse, and she knew she would trip over her tongue if she attempted to speak to him.

She was in the smithy five days after she had awoken, trying on her newly finished battlemage’s armour for Harritt, when she felt his eyes on her from the entrance to the yard.

“Nugskin suits you, my lady.” His low voice thrummed in his own ears. The slim fitting breeches clung to the muscles in her legs, accentuating her trim figure. And the pale greys and creams made those luminous blue eyes stand out even more. As always, long leather gloves hid the glow from her left hand. She had been hiding it as much as possible since she first woke.

“Th-thank you, Commander,” she stammered. “I’m used to warmer weather. Harritt was kind enough to suggest nugskin as being warm but supple enough for light armour.” It was the most she’d said to him since that first afternoon in the Chantry and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. _Maker, but the way he was looking at her…_

“He was right. I’ll look into sending some of the recruits out to hunt more nugs. Threnn could use it to make armour for Leliana’s scouts. But I didn’t come here to talk about armour choices. If you’ll excuse us, Harritt, a raven has arrived from Sister Leliana’s scout in the Hinterlands. Our presence is required in the War Room.”

“Of course, Commander. If you need any adjustments or repairs, my lady, just bring the armour back here. Me and the lads will see to it.” The smith gave a respectful nod and returned to harrying one of his apprentices while Cullen and Saibra returned to the gates of Haven.

They walked in awkward silence for a moment. 

“How are you finding Haven, my lady? Have you everything you need?” Cullen asked when he couldn’t stand it anymore, rubbing the back of his neck. He was grateful her eyes were focused on keeping her footing on the icy stone steps. He wasn’t sure he could meet that wide innocent gaze.

“And more. Everyone’s been so kind. I… I’m grateful.” She paused to gaze up at the breach, high overhead. “But I hope the Reverend Mother is on her way. I’m running out of ways to keep myself occupied.”

“I would happily, uh, that is, it would help greatly if you would help me train the recruits.” _Damn it, I was so close to telling her I would willingly spend time with her._ “As of yet, we’ve brought precious few Templars into the ranks. Those we have assist greatly in preparing the others, but it would do them good to spar against a mage.” It was true enough, he supposed, and it would mean spending more time in her company-a thought that made him shiver in spite of the warm fur over his shoulders.

“That–I could do that. I’m sure I need more practice in combat magic. It’s not something I got much experience with in the Circle. But I don’t need to tell you that,” she smiled shyly up at him. It was her first reference to his former life. Her tone, neither hostile or bitter, convinced him that wasn’t the reason she had avoided him while seeking out the company of others.

“I thought you and Solas had been practicing together?” He framed it as a question, but it wasn’t really. He had watched them leave together to train on the other side of the lake where they wouldn’t easily be interrupted.

That made her laugh, a warm bright sound. _Maker’s breath, what he wouldn’t give to make her laugh again._ “We have, but I’m sure you’ve realised by now that Solas isn’t like any other mage. And he certainly isn’t like an ordinary soldier. I’m sure sparring with someone who is so rooted in the Fade must be different from sparring with a soldier firmly grounded in Thedas.”

They had reached the door to the War Room. He swept her a courtly bow that made her blush, as he held it open for her. “After you, my lady.”

Leliana’s face was set in the sour cast it always was these days, but Josephine’s eyes as she glared down at her clipboard were also frustrated.

“It’s bad news on both fronts,” Cassandra reported, handing a parchment to Cullen as he entered behind Saibra. “Not only has Harding not been able to reach Horsemaster Dennet, but the Reverend Mother refuses to come to Haven until the refugees are safe.”

“Damn,” Cullen breathed. “We could really use those mounts.”

“Worthy mounts are the least of our problems,” Josephine told him. “Without Mother Giselle we have no way to make inroads into the Chantry.”

“What if I go to the Hinterlands myself?” Saibra’s voice was small, tentative. They hadn’t asked her advice yet, and she was loathe to push herself forward too much, but it did seem a sensible solution.

“It would do the Inquisition good to be seen outside of Haven,” replied Cullen thoughtfully. It would be hard to let her out of his sight, but he couldn’t deny the sense of her words. “You are a figure of hope, my lady, but as of now a faceless one. It would certainly help our reputation if you were to be seen helping the refugees. And after seeing you, some may even decide to join us.”

“You cannot go alone, my lady.” Leliana’s voice was firm. “There are too many out there who still wish you harm. And if the fighting is as bad as Harding reports it, we could not guarantee your safety.”

“I will go with her,” Cassandra declared. “I was not made to sit around and wait for trouble to come to me.”

“Varric and Solas could come, too,” Saibra suggested. Her voice was a little stronger now that her suggestion had not been shot down in flames. “If there are rifts in the area, Solas’ advice could be valuable. And Varric’s aim with that crossbow of his is formidable.”

“It’s settled then,” Cassandra’s voice was firm. “We leave in the morning.”


	3. Reports From the Hinterlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra has disappeared off to the Hinterlands and Cullen finds he is missing the shy little mage

_Commander,_

_I have met with Mother Giselle. She agrees with you. Being seen doing good in the world beyond Haven will soften the Chantry’s denouncements of me. She believes if some of them doubt my guilt it will buy us the time we need to strengthen our position. She is on her way to Haven as I write. She has agreed to help Leliana arrange a gathering of those in the Chantry who may be willing to listen._

_We will not be returning with her. Having seen the refugees, we need to do something–_ I _need to do something–for them. The mages in Redcliffe have shut their gates to them and the Chantry is nowhere to be seen so we are the only ones seeing to their welfare._

_There are also several rifts in the area that I wish to close. It’s bad enough these people have to deal with mages and Templars battling through the hills without demons, terrors and shades attacking them as well._

_We will also try and reach Horsemaster Dennet again. From Scout Harding’s report when we got here, a small strike force may be able to get through and it will allow the rest of our forces here to focus on helping the refugees prepare for winter._

_Maker watch over you,  
Saibra Trevelyan_

“And you, Lady Herald,” Cullen sighed, half a smile twisting the scar over his mouth. Clearly no one had told her one report would suffice, for she had sent each of her advisors a copy of the report written in her own hand.

Her handwriting was as he had pictured it, neat and carefully written. He could imagine her concentrating on keeping it clear and easy to read, the way she would have been taught while she was studying at Ostwick. The thought made him smile again, before he remembered that was the last word they’d had from Saibra herself in three weeks. Since then Cassandra had been writing the reports, the Herald always busy elsewhere. She had been away longer than she had been in Haven, but he found that he missed those radiant blue eyes and that shy smile more than he had been expecting. Certainly, it had been expected she and her party would have returned to Haven long before now.

The Council still met once a day to discuss these reports and Leliana’s progress with Mother Giselle and the Chantry, but sometimes it felt so pointless without the Herald to break any deadlock. And Leliana refused to let them send reports to Saibra asking for her decisions. The risk of the reports falling into the hands of others was far too great, she told them.

 _I will make more time to get to know her when she returns to Haven,_ Cullen promised himself before trying to rid himself of thoughts of her. Maker knew it did him no good to be mooning over a girl ten years his junior. And Andraste’s chosen at that. 

He reached for another parchment-Cassandra’s most recent report to the Council. It had only arrived by raven this morning but Leliana had already had made copies made for both himself and Josephine.

_Sister Leliana,_

_I trust Mother Giselle’s presence is proving useful, if only in countering Chancellor Roderick’s vitriol. I would be glad to hear that the Chantry is becoming less hostile to us. Certainly the people here are grateful for the intervention of the Inquisition. Too often we hear that no one else is doing anything to help those displaced by the fighting._

_Andraste could not have made a better choice for her Herald. The girl works like a woman possessed. She pushes us night and day, driving us into the hills to hunt food for the refugees, close rifts, and battle Templars, mages and bandits alike. When we make it back to a camp or the crossroads, she is among the refugees, offering comfort and kind words. Several times now we have gone into the wilderness seeking to retrieve a lost or abandoned valuable or searching for a missing friend or relative. She cannot pass a smallholding without checking that its inhabitants are well and safe. If the apothecaries ever run out of Elfroot it will not be her doing, for she collects it as if it were not the most common plant in the world. The people love her and they rain blessings down on us wherever we go. She has encouraged several people to join our cause. Some remain here in the Hinterlands but others shall be reporting to you in Haven soon._

_The Herald seems to draw strength from the peoples’ faith in her. It pushes her harder. But it has also made her more confident. I cannot imagine the girl who fell from the Fade would have been capable of organising the successful ambush on a Templar encampment that we made two days ago._

_I am trying to convince her to come back to Haven to regroup and resupply. Even Solas has asked her if we have not done enough to get the attention of the clerics. But the Herald is right when she says that it is bad here. This is no longer a war. It is mages against Templars against everyone. No one is safe from the fighting and bandits have descended on the area to profit from the chaos._

_We still have no word of Dennet, though we are beginning a push into that area. There is word of a rift spewing particularly nasty terrors–perhaps even a despair demon–there that Lady Saibra will not ignore. I will inform you of the outcome as soon as I may. I think if we can persuade him to join us at Haven she will be convinced to come back herself._

_Maker guide our hands,  
Cassandra Pentaghast_

So that was what she needed to bring her out of herself–a purpose. Well he knew that feeling well enough. It was what he had been lacking since Kirkwall but had found again with the Inquisition. If only that purpose had not kept her from Haven for three weeks…


	4. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra returns to Haven, and Cullen discovers he doesn't need to come up with an excuse to get to know her... she has one for him.

“She’s here! The Herald approaches!” 

Cullen leapt to his feet at the scout’s call. He had been on tenterhooks ever since the advance scouts had informed them that the Herald and her party were on the road back to Haven.

He was not the only one. Men and women flocked from their tents and huts to catch a glimpse of their returning hero. Cullen shouldered his way through the crowd. He didn’t notice that Leliana and Josephine were following in his wake until the ambassador spoke.

“If she is greeted like this in the Hinterlands no wonder she was reluctant to return.”

“I’m just glad she finally did,” Cullen muttered, guiding the two women to the throng until they reached the bridge.

She was just coming through the gate at the other end. He could tell even from this distance that she was exhausted. Shadows showed like bruises under her eyes and her back had lost its ladylike straightness. But there was triumph in those eyes too. She was definitely no longer the nervous, lost girl who had left a month ago. 

And where was the tired grey mare she had riden away on? Now she rode a handsome chestnut Ferelden Forder which she pulled up in front of them. 

“Commander. Ambassador. Sister.”

“Well met, my lady,” Leliana nodded. “We have called a meeting of the Council, but it can wait until you have eaten and rested.”

“No,” Saibra shook her head and slid from the saddle. “If I sit down I don’t think I’d ever get up again.” She gave her horse a final affectionate pat, before handing the reigns to a stable boy that had materialised at her side.

“That’s a fine horse,” Cullen told her, falling into step beside her as they followed Josephine and Leliana through the crowd. “Where on earth did you get him?”

“A goodwill gift from Master Dennet,” she beamed up at him, the radiance of her smile wiping all traces of exhaustion away. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? I’ve never had a horse of my own before.”

“And does your handsome steed have a name?” Her enthusiasm was infectious. And he had missed that smile.

It dimmed slightly as she gazed up at the Breach. “Solace. I named him Solace.”

“Comfort?” The name was a surprise. He could see a streak of the romantic in her. He had expected a name more like “Honour” or “Lightning”.

“Those people in the Hinterlands, all these refugees here. They’re all so afraid. There’s a war on and a hole in the sky. They need someone to comfort them. Solace is my promise to myself. If Andraste really did send me then that’s what I want to be for them.”

He couldn’t help himself. He reached over and gave her shoulder a squeeze. The raw magic under his fingers made him want to pull away, but he refused to flinch from her. She was too young, really, to carry the burden the Maker had placed on those slim shoulder. _And who is there to comfort her when she’s afraid_ , he wondered to himself.

They had lagged behind the Ambassador and Spymaster who were nowhere in sight by the time Cullen and Saibra had reached the top of the steps to the Chantry courtyard. A crowd had formed there, seemingly out of nowhere. Maker help her it was a blazing row between a mage and a Templar over whose fault the war was. She could feel the fury rolling of Cullen in waves as he stepped between them. “Enough!” he snarled

“Knight Captain-“ the Templar began.

“That is _not_ my title. We are not Templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition,” he had a hold of his temper again. Until Chancellor Roderick also pushed through the crowd.

“And what does that mean exactly?”

“Back already, Chancellor,” Cullen sighed. “Haven’t you done enough?” His party must have arrived from Val Royeaux in the wake of hers, Saibra realised. She had been so tired she had no idea what was going on behind her. Well, that and she was talking to the Commander. Conversations with him always seemed to require all her attention. 

Roderick was not rattled by Cullen’s obvious dislike. He addressed the crowd as much as Cullen when he asked, “I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its heretics will restore order as you’ve promised?”

“Of course you are,” Saibra heard the Commander mutter under his breath. She longed to help him neutralise the venom the Chancellor was spouting but, though her confidence had grown dealing with refugees – and demons – she was still shy of speaking out in front of powerful people. And for all Cassandra dismissed Roderick as a clerk and a bureaucrat, he did have real power and allies within the Chantry.

“Back to your duties, all of you.” Cullen dismissed the crowd, but moved in closer to the Chancellor, trying to make their argument in this public space a little more private. “Mages and Templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

“Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order,” Roderick insisted loudly, ignoring Cullen’s attempt at discretion.

Cullen snorted in disbelief. “Who, you? Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and it’s so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’?” the Chancellor shot back, gesturing to where Saibra stood trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. “I think not.”

Well, since he had brought her into it in the first place... “So far, you’re the only one who’s insisted we can’t work together.” It seemed a reasonable statement to her. If Justinia had sanctioned the Inquisition before her death, surely they should be working _with_ the Chantry.

“We might,” Roderick conceded, sounding reasonable. “If your Inquisition would recognise the Chantry’s authority.” Well, that didn’t last long.

“There is no authority until another Divine is chosen,” Cullen argued, arms folded across his breastplate. If it wasn’t for the Chancellor’s badgering them, she would have enjoyed the sight of him confidently standing his ground. She was quite happy to stand behind the Commander and let him take the lead.

“In due time.” The Chancellor’s voice was as icy as the air around them. “Andraste will be our guide. Not some dazed wanderer on a mountainside.”

“I’ve been away, Chancellor, how widespread is the violence between Mages and Templars?” Saibra asked. At Ostwick her strategy for dealing with an angry Senior Enchanter had always been to calm them by asking questions. Most of them were vain enough to be flattered when a young mage wanted to learn from their wisdom and experience. Maybe that would help here. Certainly, he seemed the arrogant, self-important type.

“Impossible to say,” Cullen replied, his eyes gentling to liquid amber for her before snapping back to Chancellor as hard gold.

“Your organisation flouting the Chantry’s authority will not help matters!” Roderick’s voice was rising again. Clearly that hadn’t worked.

“With the Conclave destroyed I imagine the war between mages and Templars is renewed. With interest.” She had never heard Cullen sound so bitter. 

“Remind me _why_ you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?” Saibra asked Cullen, trying to put some semblance of the authority people seemed to think she had into her voice.

Roderick couldn’t resist getting his barb in. “Clearly your _Templar_ knows where to draw the line.”

“He’s toothless.” Cullen, at least, refused to rise to the bait, though he couldn’t keep the disdain from his voice. “There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.” He turned from his standoff to face Saibra, his voice gentler. “The Chancellor’s a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.” He wanted her to know he would protect her from this vitriol, if he could. They turned to enter the Chantry together.

“I’ll make them see reason in Val Royeaux.” She promised. There was a fierce intensity in those blue eyes of hers. She had clearly taken the refugee’s plight to heart.

“I pray you’re right,” he murmured, holding the door for her.

……………………………………………

Cassandra took charge when they got to the War Room. “You’ll all have seen the Herald’s new horse. But Master Dennet would not come with us.”

“That’s unfair, Cassandra,” Saibra protested. “Solace was a gesture of good faith.” She turned to the rest of them. “He believes in our cause, but he has,” she paused, searching for the right word, “reservations. We’ve seen how bad it is in the Hinterlands. He doesn’t want to leave his wife, daughter and workers to face those dangers alone. He’s already sent the men away for their safety. At the moment it’s just the three of them and his most senior man to tend the whole farm.”

“Is there something we can do to persuade him?” asked Josephine. She looked to Cullen. “Commander is there any way we could spare some of our forces to guard Master Dennet’s lands?”

“It would be a stretch,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it sets a precedent I don’t like. Anyone who feels they can be of use to us could use it to demand their own guards.”

“I don’t think that’s really necessary anyway.” It was the most confident she’d sounded in the War Room. She had never dismissed any of the adviser’s ideas without mollifying them with words about how good a plan it had been. Cassandra was right. She had become more confident. “Dennet is a self-sufficient man. Proud. He just wants proof that the area in general is more safe, not his family in particular.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Cullen? “We still don’t have enough troops to send in and purge the area.”

“There are a nasty pack of wolves in the area. Solas thinks a demon from the rift near the farm has possessed them. That’s certainly what his wife is most worried about now that the rift in the next valley has been closed. We can easily see them off. But his other idea is a little more tricky. That’s why we came back now. Here.” She pulled a map of the Hinterlands from her pack and laid it over the larger map on the table, gesturing Cullen closer. “His man suggested watchtowers to warn of danger before it arrives. He recommended here, here and here.” Maker but it felt good to have the Commander so close. She could feel his armour pressing into her back, hear his breath close to her right ear.

“Can it be done, Commander?” asked Leliana, breaking the spell.

“Certainly. It’s an excellent plan.” He scrutinised the map closely. “Those are admirable locations. I’d probably have picked them myself if I’d been asked. And they’re spread so that they watch over far more than just the Redcliffe Farms. No one will think the horsemaster is getting special treatment.” He looked up at the Herald, smiling. “This will work well. My men will have those towers up in no time. It won’t take many of them to guard the construction, and those same men can be used to staff them.”

“Well, if that’s all settled I need a bath,” sighed Saibra. She was feeling exhaustion dragging at her. The argument with Roderick hadn’t helped either. “And did someone mention food?”

“I’ll see that it’s delivered to your cabin, my lady,” Josephine was scribbling on her tablet already.

……………………………………………

There was no point in returning to the Hinterlands to try and convince Dennet to join them until the watchtowers were at least nearly complete. Josephine and Leliana were still working to draw out the finer details of a meeting between Saibra and at least some of the remaining members of the Chantry. So, it was agreed the next day that Saibra and her companions would spend two weeks at Haven before travelling back to Redcliffe and, all being well, they could go straight to Val Royeaux from there.

Saibra caught up with Cullen as they were leaving the War Room.

“Commander, may I beg a favour?”

He had been startled by the hand on his arm, soft and small and amazingly warm, those wide blue eyes gazing up at him. “You may ask, milady. If it is in my power, I shall do my best for you.” Mentally he rubbed the back of his neck, thanking the Maker that he hadn’t stuttered.

“I’m not sure how much you know of my training at Ostwick, but I was being trained as a battlefield healer.” 

That made sense to Cullen. From the reports Cassandra had sent, Saibra was a skilled healer. Add to that the fact she was capable of defending herself and that she was clearly more at ease taking orders than giving them and her endless compassion for the displaced… yes, the Templars would have happily agreed with any First Enchanter who suggested that as a calling for the young mage.

“I’m fine at range, but that doesn’t really help me when I have to actually fight, rather than just defend myself long enough to assess and triage a wound. I asked Cassandra if she would teach me some melee skills, but she never learned to fight with a staff. She said that would have been part of your Templar training.” She was pacing now, her voice speeding up, anticipating a no, but desperate to get all her arguments in. If he refused her, Cullen realised, she would be too shy and embarrassed to ask again. “I know you’re busy training the troops, but Cassandra said the soldiers need to see me as a leader not a raw recruit. It would damage morale if they thought I couldn’t defend myself. And it will be so embarrassing if everyone saw me fail. But you know the training I’ve received and you won’t expect any more of me than what I should know and I know you’d asked me to help the recruits practice fighting mages but-”

“My Lady Herald,” Cullen interrupted with a gentle hand on her shoulder, “your arguments are all sound ones. It would have to be in the evenings, away from camp, but I would be happy to train you. Do you know the logging camp to the east of the lake?”

Saibra released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. The tension drained out of her. “Yes, I know it. That’s where Solas and I practiced using rift magic.”

“Meet me there after the dinner hour. Bring a waterskin and wear your armour. I’ll assess you and see what you already know. We can take it from there.

……………………………………………

“So, how did I do?” Saibra was laughing as she dropped heavily down beside Cullen on the ground. She was breathing hard, dripping sweat and suddenly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen was her grabbing the waterskin and pouring half of it over her face.

They had been at it for over an hour. When they arrived the sun had just been kissing the top of the mountain. Now it was full dark, and the only light was the torches he’d thought to bring and place in a ring around the clearing.

Cullen wanted to tell her how astonishingly beautiful she was. But even if it hadn’t been almost blasphemous to talk of Andraste’s Herald in that way, he knew his own tongue would get in the way. It was easier to talk purely of her training. 

It wasn’t just him who seemed to feel that way. She was more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. He’d seen her shy smiles and friendliness to the refugees and his recruits. But he’d never seen her grin in delight, the way she had when she’d blocked one of his blows.

“Not as badly as you led me to believe,” he finally answered. When he realised he’d just been gazing blankly at her for a moment. “But you favour your right leg. And there’s something off about your left arm. You brace too hard before blocking with it, and you don’t put your full strength into a blow with it.”

Saibra gaped at him. “You could tell all that? I’m not even lame on that leg! I would swear I wasn’t limping. And I try so hard not to tense my arm!”

“You do a good job hiding it,” he agreed, trying not to feel too smug that he’d spotted weaknesses she’d tried to conceal. Or that he’d impressed her. “You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it. And there’s no sign of it when you’re moving. But when you take a stance you put slightly more weight onto the left side. If someone knew to look for that it would be easier to unbalance you. There’s obviously something there. And you are definitely protecting an old injury on your left arm.”

“All right, all right, you caught me out.” She wasn’t angry, but laughing again. “Those are both from times when I couldn’t heal myself.” She shrugged. “Not very interesting stories, but I’ll tell them if you want me to?”

“Please,” he realised he was grinning at her like a boy and tried to smooth his face over. “If I know how they happened, what the true nature of the weakness there is, I can help you counter it.”

“Okay, but I’m not staying upright for this,” Saibra laughed again. “You’ve exhausted me, Commander.” She took one last gulp of water from the skin before flopping down on her back. “The ankle was a long time ago, and it’s not an injury as such. It was actually while I was on the way to the Circle for the first time. I’d been caught healing an injured nug of all things. I was bitten by an insect of some kind and the bite caused an infection in the muscles. I begged the Templars escorting me to let me try and heal it, but they wouldn’t let an untrained eight-year-old do something like that themselves.” She glanced at him from under dark lashes and sighed. “They were probably right but by the time we got to Ostwick Tower my ankle was the size of your helmet and I could put no weight on it. The healer did his best, but he said the infection had too much time to work and the muscles would never be as strong on that side as the other.” She laughed again. “It hasn’t bothered me in years, so I blame the terrain in the Hinterlands.”

“Are you in pain?” Cullen was concerned. It didn’t sound like anything serious, but the thought of this beautiful laughing woman hurting was… hard to bear.

“No. It’s not pain. It’s not even discomfort. I just… I always know there’s an ankle there, if you know what I mean?”

He smiled at her again. “I do. And the arm?”

Her smile faded. “That’s much more recent. It happened the night Ostwick Circle fell.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it-“

“No,” she interrupted, voice firm. “Things like the fall of the Circle… they can poison your mind, if you let them. Talking draws out the poison. It’s as healing as a potion or a spell.” She sat up again, gazing at the Breach above them, where it’s glow blotted out the moon. “I fell with the Circle. Literally. Backwards out a second floor window.”

Cullen hissed in sympathy, a harsh sound in the stillness of the night. Saibra didn’t even seem to have noticed.

“I was trying to get out. The rebels and the Templars were fighting each other all through the tower. I thought if I could just get outside I could hide somewhere until it was over. I stumbled round a corner and into a group of rebels trying to barricade the corridor. One of them hit me with a mind blast. I don’t think she even saw who it was, she just acted on instinct. I’d been hugging the outer wall and it was just blind bad luck that I was passing a window. It was like flying for a minute…” her voice had become soft and dreamy. Cullen felt himself drowning in it. 

Until Saibra shook her head and the spell was broken. “I landed on a rock. Badly. It split my shoulder blade in half. I’m told I have a beautiful scar where it pierced the skin. Anyway, I didn’t have time to heal it. I could hear people coming my way and I was scared. Neither group was checking whose side you were on before attacking. I rammed the bone into place as best as I could and took off. I didn’t stop running until I reached my sister’s estate. It’s healed surprisingly well, but I suppose I try and protect it when I fight.”

“Have you mentioned these injuries to Harritt?”

“Harritt?” The way her brow furrowed was adorable, Cullen decided. “The Smith? Why would I?”

Cullen had brought a pack with him and he rummaged around in it before producing a quill, ink and some parchment. “He can make some alterations to your armour to protect and stabilise your injuries. Certainly that shoulder will be vulnerable so you’ll need more padding there to absorb a blow. And tougher leather to support it. More support in the ankle of your boots, too. You only need it in one but get it in both, or one boot will be heavier than the other and you’ll be off balance again.” He waved the parchment in the air to dry it before handing it to Saibra. “Give this to him with your armour in the morning. It says what you need.”

Saibra took the parchment with a smile. “Didn’t you hear? I’m getting another set of new armour anyway. Josephine was convinced the battlemage stuff wasn’t ‘regal’ enough for a Herald of Andraste. Now it’s onto an enchanter’s coat and a tunic that looks pretty.” She saw his face and grinned again. “Don’t worry, Commander. Ring velvet overlaid on tougher leather. Looks pretty, acts practical.”

Cullen stood and offered her a hand. “We should be getting back. I don’t think you need as much training as you think, but we’ll do a little every other night until you leave for Redcliffe Farms again. Maybe when you come back we can see if the recruits are ready for you.”  
 


	5. Imposter Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra begins to crack under the pressure of being The Herald of Andraste. Cullen shows her some cracks of his own.

“So, who do you think is the toughest?” Varric asked Solas. They had made camp for the night on the road to Val Royeaux and had been sat in companionable silence as they ate. For once. _Here we go again,_ Saibra thought. What ridiculousness was the dwarf going to come out with now. “Josephine, Leliana or Cassandra?”

“I’m _right here,_ you know!” Saibra swore Varric had produced this one just to provoke that angry red flush in the Seeker’s olive cheeks. From the look on his face, he certainly wasn’t disappointed. Cassandra had too hot a temper and just couldn’t help taking the bait.

“That doesn’t rule you out, Seeker,” he cooed tauntingly.

“Cullen’s not up for consideration?” Solas was usually the peacemaker between the two. Saibra may have gained in confidence, may even have started to consider them friends, but she still wasn’t brave enough to break up an argument between the fiery warrior and the taunting rogue.

“Curly? They just keep him around to look pretty.” Saibra choked on her stew in shock. The argument was forgotten in the general laughter. 

“You’re too delicate, Duchess,” Varric teased, slapping her on the back, “if the thought of our Commander leaves you breathless.” Normally she didn’t mind the nickname he’d given to her – a joke on her sheltered life and high-class origins – but tonight she just felt humiliated. “Though I’ll admit, I can see why you would. Curly’s a fine looking man. And chivalrous. Perfect for a sensitive flower like yourself.”

“I need to get some air.” She stood abruptly. “Away from the fire,” she added quickly, seeing Varric open his mouth to point out that they were already outside and had been all day. She hurried away, Varric’s laughter echoing behind her.

She found her way to the spot where they’d left the horses. Solace was standing proudly where she’d tethered him. Stroking his nose, she felt tears prick her eyes. She might… admire the Commander, but did everyone have to know it? Was it because she’d been sneaking off to train with him? Was there gossip about it? And was she really so fragile as Varric made out? Did he think she was a liability in a fight? She’s spent weeks fighting in the Hinterlands. And that was after facing that huge pride demon at the Breach. 

It had been so much easier out there. Oh, they had looked to her to tell them what to do, but that had been easy. In the Hinterlands, you didn’t need to cast far to find someone who needed help, some wrong that needed righting. It was less about making decisions and more about doing what was right. Her conscience could easily lead her through that mess. But to be leading a delegation to Val Royeaux. To be a representative of the Inquisition in front of what was left of the Chantry… 

She heard soft steps behind her. She knew it must be Solas. Varric would have enjoyed sneaking up on her, and Cassandra was too much the warrior for any kind of delicacy in her movement. She didn’t turn. She couldn’t let him see her cry.

“Varric didn’t mean to offend you, Lady Saibra.”

“I’m not offended.” Somehow she had found a brush and had begun to take it to her horse’s flank. It gave her an excuse not to look at him. “I was just hot. And I wanted to see to Solace.” She was lying and he knew it.

“I believe he was simply attempting to make you laugh,” the elf persisted. “The jest was in poor taste, but the intention was good.”

“Maybe if Varric was the one heading this Maker-cursed delegation he wouldn’t find everything so damned funny!” She couldn’t help it. She had spent another week in the Hinterland trying – and succeeding – to charm Master Dennet into supplying his horses and services to the Inquisition, while Leliana and Mother Giselle smoothed out the final details of this meeting in Orlais. Before that there had been days of training in manners and etiquette from Josephine and going over intelligence reports on the Chantry members she may meet when they moved on to Val Royeaux. Add in her late night training sessions with the Commander and she had had no time to rest since she had fallen out of the Fade. She was just so _tired_. So much was riding on her. She swiped roughly at her watery eyes with the back of her hand.

Solas seemed completely unfazed by her outburst. But then, nothing ever did seem to faze him. “So that is the issue. I’m surprised I didn’t see it before.” He had been keeping a respectful distance between them, but now he stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm, fingers cool on her flushed, angry skin. “Please look at me, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” she insisted. “Mages have to give up all claim to their titles.” But she did turn to look at him.

“So they did. But must that hold true now? Whoever wins the war, mages and Templars cannot go back to the way they once were. Too much has happened.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, biting her lip. “But it’s too late for me. I missed too much of the training that comes with a noble upbringing. Lady Montilyet was appalled at the gaps in my knowledge.”

“A lack of knowledge can be easily rectified with time and willingness, as you well know, Lady Saibra. Look how much you have learned of the rifts in just a few weeks.”

“But not the attitudes that come when you grow up with that knowledge,” she argued hotly. The tears that had been easing began to sting at her eyes again. “I will never be a leader in the way a noble should be.” And then the dam broke. “Everyone is looking to me as some Maker-blessed Herald of Andraste, sent to save them all. But there’s nothing special about me. It’s just this thing on my hand. If she really chose me then Andraste made a huge mistake because I was never meant to be a leader. I’ve never had to make decisions for myself, let alone anyone else. And now so much is riding on me. If we fail here, we could have the Templar loyalists marching on Haven. All those refugees... they’re counting on me to convince the Chantry that I’m some sort of Saviour when I know I’m really just a good little mage from Ostwick, who was quite happy to spend the rest of her life in her Circle. I can’t even stop Cassandra and Varric from bickering like children, for Maker’s sake!”

The tears were flowing freely now. From somewhere in his robes, Solas produced a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes with it. Ashamed of her outburst.

“Lady Saibra, you have been leading us well for weeks. The people look to you as their Herald not just because you can close the rifts, but because you have done so much good for them. That is the mark of a true leader. The ability to give of themselves for the good of others. Believe me, in my travels through the Fade, I have seen many past leaders, good and bad. I believe you are one of the good ones. I would not have stayed otherwise.”

Saibra gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Solas.”

“If you cannot have faith in your Maker, have faith in the ability of the people around you to judge your abilities. You advisors would not be sending you to Val Royeaux if they did not believe you could convince the Reverend Mothers.” He gave her arm another gentle squeeze, before stepping back. “Take what time you need. I shall return to the camp and hope that Varric and Cassandra are not at each other’s throats.” He gave her a rare smile. “It would take one of your Maker’s miracles to stop them arguing.”

She took a few deep breaths and straightened her spine before following. She couldn’t hide that she’d been crying, but she could at least try and keep some dignity.

She could hear Solas’ low voice before she saw them and stopped to listen.

“…need to be united for her. The Herald is still uncertain in her leadership and arguing amongst ourselves only weakens her resolve.”

“But she has been doing so well!” Cassandra protested. “The work she did in the Hinterlands was exceptional. Only she could have convinced so many to join our cause!”

“She does not yet believe it,” Solas voice was level, as always. “She needs more time to become comfortable with what others believe her to be. We must show our faith in her, especially now. This meeting in Val Royeaux will be a turning point for her. If she can convince the Chantry of our good intent, it will go a long way towards strengthening her confidence.”

“Duchess’ll knock ‘em dead.” Saibra found herself touched by the certainty in Varric’s voice. “But I’ll lay off the Seeker for now, if you really think she needs it.”

“And I will… _try_ to be less harsh on Varric.”

“That is all I ask of you both. How many more days until we cross the border to Orlais?”

Saibra gave them a couple of minutes to settle into other topics of conversation. She returned to the fire when Solas started questioning Varric on Dwarven literature. Varric handed her a fresh bowl of stew with a slight bow, but otherwise nothing was said of her flight from the camp. She was quiet for the rest of the evening. But as she curled up on her bedroll to sleep, Saibra held their belief in her tight to her heart. Maybe she wasn’t such an imposter after all.

……………………………………………

Saibra sighed with relief when the cool night air hit her face. Between the braziers and the heated arguments, the War Room had been far too hot and she could feel a headache pounding behind her eyes. As if the pain from the mark wasn’t enough.

Val Royeaux had been almost a complete wash out. Between the fear-mongering of the one Reverend Mother to appear, the physical assault on that same Mother by a Templar led by Lord Seeker Lucius, the Lord Seeker’s denouncement of the Inquisition as heretical, and the Templars abandoning Val Royeaux to the rebel mages and Orlais’ civil war, it couldn’t have gone much worse. 

At least Grand Enchanter Fiona had given them a way to approach the mages. And there were her two new allies – not that she actually liked either of them. Madame Vivienne was too much of a cold fish, an even more accomplished player of The Game than Saibra’s own father. She was only out for what she could gain for herself. But she would give them good connections among the nobility of Orlais and she was a formidable mage in her own right. She supposed she could see why some people would find Sera amusing, but Saibra herself simply found her aggravating. Between the rambling and the foul language, she rubbed the quiet mage up the wrong way. But Sera was right that it would benefit them if the ordinary people of Thedas saw the Inquisition as a place they could turn in the face of oppression or injustice and The Friends of Red Jenny would be a useful addition to Leliana’s network of spies.

Still, the advisors could not agree on whether they should approach the Templars or the mages. Josephine and Leliana argued as strongly for the mages as Cullen and Cassandra did the Templars. Saibra was leaning towards the mages herself: they, at least, had made friendly overtures. But the constant squabbling when she was already tired had worn her down until she finally let them feel what her sister called a True Trevelyan Temper.

“You could just make a decision instead of bickering about it!”

When she had stormed out she had slammed the door behind her. She was glad she hadn’t been able to see their faces. She hadn’t blown up like that in years. Well, other than that time on the road to Val Royeaux when she had yelled at Solas. What would they think of her? Couldn’t she keep her temper to herself?

Saibra smiled shyly at the guard at the gate as she made her way out the gates of Haven and down to the frozen lake. She wasn’t overfond of the cold, but tonight it was refreshing. It had never been cold enough in Ostwick for ice like this and she was fascinated by it. Gently, she tested her weight on the lake’s edge. After a moment of holding her breath in case it shattered and dumped her into the cold water she relaxed. A circuit of the lake should be enough to clear her head so she could actually sleep tonight.

“My lady Herald!”

She had only gone a few feet before she heard Commander Cullen’s voice behind her. _Maker, if he’s come to continue his arguments…_

“Is everything alright, my lady? The guard said you’d come out here alone.” There was concern in his voice, and she realised how wandering away from the camp must look after that outburst in the Chantry. 

“I’m fine. Truly. I’m just tired.” She looked down, ashamed of her actions. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I thought I’d come out here and try to clear my head.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” When Saibra glanced up she noticed the Commander couldn’t meet her eyes any more than she’d been able to meet his. “I… I regret the way we acted in there. We let our passions run away with us. I’ll leave you in peace. Good night, my lady.”

He turned, to head back to the army camp outside the village walls and she suddenly felt bereft.

“Wait!” Saibra called. She could hardly believe it, when he turned. Those eyes were like liquid gold. She wished she could drown in them. Her heart was in her mouth. “It’s not a lack of company I seek. Just a chance to think of something else besides mages and Templars and the Breach. If we could talk of anything else…” 

His smile could have melted the lake. “I’d be glad of it. Truth be told I am as sick of those same debates as you are.”

Cullen stepped down from the ice and his feet slid. Without thinking he reached out for the nearest solid object and found he was holding her forearms. She grabbed back and held tight as he steadied himself. It was then he realised that he could feel the heat of the mark through her glove. Maker, it felt like fire! Was that how she felt it? All the time?

They walked in a slightly awkward silence for a moment, the memory of both the arguments over the War Room table and his slide into her arms making them both tongue-tied and shy. There were also the few shy, tongue-tied conversations they’d already had after their private training sessions. _What possessed me to ask him if he’d taken a vow of chastity,_ Saibra thought. She’d kicked herself for that one all the way to Val Royeaux.

“Ambassador Montilyet mentioned she was writing to your parents. Have you heard from them since the Conclave?” Cullen finally asked. Family seemed a fairly safe topic.

“We’re not overly close. I wouldn’t really expect them to. I should write to my sister though. We’ve always been close…” her voice trailed off. There was something there that was bothering her too. 

“But…” Cullen finally prompted her. He would give anything to take away whatever pain she was holding in.

She sighed. “Vastra’s husband was the one who escorted me to the Conclave. What do I say to her and her daughters? How can I explain why I survived what Domart didn’t? He wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Survivor’s guilt. Well, he knew about that well enough. “May I offer you some advice, my lady?” He asked tentatively, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Please. Or you could just tell me what to do.” Saibra laughed bitterly. “I’ve spent so long wondering what I could possibly say to make it better. To let her know how guilty I feel…”

“My older sister, Mia, lost her husband during the Blight. She was a widow at 22, with three children depending on her. I… had my own troubles at the time. I started writing to her so often…” He paused, remembering those desperate days after the fall of the Circle in Kinloch Hold. He had been so damaged and broken, he hadn’t known how to deal with Mia’s pain as well as his own. “It was several years before I had the courage to speak to her. It took time, but she’s forgiven me now. I don’t think our younger brother has though, for leaving him to pick up the pieces.” 

Cullen turned and caught Saibra’s hand, and she turned those brilliant sapphire eyes up at him in surprise. “Don’t make my mistake.” He was almost begging. “Nothing will make your sister’s pain go away. The only thing that will make her loss easier to bear is time. But to know that she’s in your thoughts and in your heart? That will give her something to cling to when she is feeling it most.”

She simply gazed up at him. The concern in her gaze touched something in him. No one but Mia had worried about him in a very long time. He realised he was still holding her hand and dropped it like it was on fire. He could feel his cheeks start to burn. Maker curse his fair skin.

Saibra gently laid a hand on his arm. Whatever had happened to him, and then between him and his sister had obviously caused him so much pain. It hurt her to see him hurting. “I will write to Vastra in the morning. I promise.”

He turned to her and it made his heart beat faster to see the way she looked at him. That smile. He broke her gaze and realised they were almost back at the small dock in front of the camp. “I know you need to go to the Storm Coast to see about that Qunari and why Scout Harding hasn’t reported in. And that Leliana wants you to look into this Grey Warden in the Hinterlands. But I’ll do what I can to give you a few days here to recuperate. I…” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t make this about him. “There are hard times ahead. We all need to be at our best.”

She smiled. A genuine warm smile. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you. And for your counsel. I promise I’ll take your advice. Good night, Commander.”


	6. Reports from the Coast and the Mire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra sends her reports back from the Storm Coast and the Fallow Mire. But why is she sending them to Cullen and not Leliana?

_Commander Cullen,_

_We have found Scout Harding and I have sent her back to Leliana. A number of her men are dead, killed by a group of bandits known as the Blades of Hessarian. I am heading out to deal with them tomorrow._

_I also send you back Cassandra. The Iron Bull that had asked to meet with me has pledged his company, the Chargers, to the Inquisition. He also admits openly that he is Ben-Hassrath, though he says if we are willing to let him send some more harmless reports to them he will share his intelligence with us. I thought it was best to keep him with me until we can gage his loyalties and send his men onto Haven with Cassandra to keep an eye on them. He does have a point, though – the Breach is as dangerous to the Qunari as it is to us._

_I will let you know how I fare with the Blades, but all being well, we will only be a few days behind Cassandra._

_Maker bless you  
Saibra _

_(Also, the terrain here is brutal. My ankles thank you for the advice on boots)_

…………………………………………… 

_Herald,_

_Do not return to Haven. We have an urgent mission for you._

_A group of Inquisition soldiers have been captured by Avvar in the Fallow Mire. They demand the Herald of Andraste be the one to negotiate with them for the soldiers’ release. If we send anyone else, the soldiers will be killed._

_Scout Harding and Cassandra will meet you there with a fuller report._

_Maker guide your hand  
Leliana_

…………………………………………… 

_Commander,_

_What on Thedas were our soldiers doing in the Fallow Mire? I will head out to them instantly. The Blades were no trouble. Once I dealt with their leader they insisted they answer only to me. I have set them to guard the Coast but you may want to send someone to supervise. If they are true to their word, mayhaps we could free up Inquisition scouts and soldiers for elsewhere. Like the Fallow Mire._

_Maker watch over you,  
Saibra_

_(Also, we saw a giant. Fighting a dragon! I definitely agree with the Iron Bull on this one – it was awesome!)_

…………………………………………… 

_Herald,_

_The soldiers were there to scout out the village. We knew it had been abandoned several years ago after a plague. Since, thanks to your actions in the Hinterlands, the Inquisition is also acting as a humanitarian force, we sent them there in the hopes that the village could be repurposed as a home for the displaced refugees._

_Also, why are you writing to me and not Leliana? She is the one who runs the ravens, after all._

_Maker guide us,  
Commander Cullen_

…………………………………………… 

_Commander,_

_I write to you because Leliana scares me. You don’t scare me. You just hit me with a staff. And I get to hit you back._

_Cassandra is with us and she promises she will write Leliana a full report, but given the amount of undead here, I doubt the village will ever be habitable again. And the weather is foul._

_Saibra_

…………………………………………… 

_Sister Leliana,_

_Please don’t be concerned about the Herald making her reports to the Commander. She trusts him more than the rest of us. Whether that is because she has always had to trust the Templars at Ostwick or that they have bonded during her private training sessions I cannot say. But she is still insecure in her leadership of our group and if the Commander gives her that confidence I cannot doubt that it is a good thing. He will share the reports with you anyway._

_We have had word that the Avvar who captured our soldiers want to challenge the Herald to a duel to prove that their gods are more powerful than Andraste. It is risky, but you know the Herald will not leave people in danger when she can act. We head into the Mire tomorrow._

_Maker guide us,  
Cassandra Pentaghast_

…………………………………………… 

_Ser Commander,_

_The soldiers are safe. The Avvar chieftain’s son who hoped to make a name for himself is dead. Another of his chief’s warriors has agreed to join us as an agent after seeing me close a rift._

_We will return to Haven with the soldiers. I know Leliana wants us to head straight to the Hinterlands to find that Grey Warden, but since he’s so near Redcliffe the time has come to decide whether or not to meet the mages. We can only make that decision together in person. And we all need a break after all those corpses. and i need a good bath._

_Maker be with you  
Saibra_


	7. Hearing Hushed Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Saibra discovers what's going on in Redcliffe, can Cullen stop her rushing headlong into danger?

As soon as she arrived back in Haven, Saibra handed Solace’s reigns to Dennet and made her way to the War Room. Usually, if she wasn’t met at the gate, she would take her time, stop in at Adan with the herbs she had collected for his potions and Minaeve with any items for her magical research, but today she knew she would be expected. Cassandra was close on her heels.

As usual, Cullen, Leliana and Josephine were arrayed across the table from her. This time there was no easy banter between the three. They waited for her to speak.

“I think the time has come to go to Redcliffe and take up Grand Enchanter Fiona’s invitation to talk.”

“I still think we should approach the Templars,” Cullen was adamant. “I know what they can do for us.”

“Commander, please. We’ve had no word yet from the Templars or Lord Seeker Lucius that wasn’t disgust. We can at least see what Fiona has to say for the Mages. If we go in prepared for it to be a trap-“

“Which we _will_ be,” interrupted Cassandra, who had already had this argument with Saibra on the road back from the Mire.

“Which we will be,” Saibra agreed, “then we can deal with any possibility. If there’s no trap, we’ve gained an easy ally and can look to the Templars later. If it is a trap, we can deal with one enemy and then go to the Templars and honestly say we’re not in league with the rebel mages.”

“I agree with the Herald,” Leliana chimed in. “I have little information on where the Templars even are and none on what Lord Seeker Lucius is doing. We know where the Mages are and they have invited us to talk.”

“So it’s settled?” asked Josephine. “Just like that.”

“But you agree,” Cullen’s voice was urgent, “that we’re not completely ruling out an alliance with the Templars once we’ve seen what the situation is with the Mages?”

“Of course we’re not.” Leliana looked at him like he’d said something nasty about her pet nugs. “That would be extremely foolish.”

“Very well,” Cullen agreed with a sigh. “You go find this Warden Blackwall. There’s a smuggling operation running out of the Grand Forest Villa near his last know location which should be dealt with. And then you meet with the mages.” And that was that.

……………………………………………

_Commander,_

_We have recruited Warden Blackwall, who is carrying this letter. Send him to Leliana but I really believe he has no idea where the other Wardens have disappeared to. He did help us clear out the Villa. It’s big enough that we could repurpose it for the refugees or as a command post._

_We head for Redcliffe on the morrow._

_Maker watch over you  
Saibra_

……………………………………………

_Commander,_

_I hope this reaches you before Warden Blackwall. Something is very wrong. Leliana’s scouts report that no one in Redcliffe was expecting us. We’ve been told Fiona is no longer in charge but someone named “Magister Alexius” is. That sounds suspiciously Tevinter to me._

_We are heading into the Tavern to see what is going on now. If you don’t receive another bird from us tomorrow, we may be in trouble. Prepare the troops._

_Maker be with us all  
Saibra_

……………………………………………

_Advisors,_

_We ride for Haven at once. We may need to prepare for war. Explain when we arrive._

_Saibra_

……………………………………………

“There is no mistake. We all saw the distortions in time around the rifts,” Cassandra told the council at the War Table. “We need to get into Redcliffe Keep and remove Magister Alexius.”

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle,” Cullen argued, frustrated that – once again – no one was listening to him. “Either we find another way in or give up this nonsense and go and get the Templars.”

Cassandra was calm, for once, no trace of the anger that had driven her during the mad ride from Redcliffe to Haven. “Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asks for the Herald of Andraste by name,” Josephine informed them, producing the missive that had arrived by raven minutes behind Saibra’s group. “It’s an obvious trap!” 

Saibra cursed internally. Until now, Josie had been such a strong advocate for recruiting the mages. “We can’t waste time fighting amongst ourselves,” Saibra hoped her voice sounded firmer than she felt. She would not let this meeting get out of hand. “We have to come to an agreement.”

“A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing?” Saibra was glad Leliana was on her side for once.

Josephine swallowed hard, but stood her ground. “Not this again.”

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden,” Cullen reminded the group. “It has repelled thousands of assaults.” He turned to Saibra, golden eyes intent. He _had_ to make her understand. “If you go in there you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts.” _And I’ll lose you,_ he added silently. “I won’t allow it.”

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.” Leliana was equally adamant.

“Even if we could assault the keep,” Josephine interrupted, “it would be for naught. An Orlesian Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

Cassandra lost her temper again. “The Magister-“

“Has outplayed us,” Cullen interrupted, calm again. He took a deep breath. Maybe he’d win this fight after all.

“We can’t just give up,” Saibra protested. “There has to be something we can do.”

“We cannot accept defeat now,” Cassandra agreed. “There must be a solution.”

“Where is the Arl of Redcliffe?” Saibra turned to Leliana. If anyone had the answer to that, the spymaster would. “I’m sure he’d help us get his castle back.”

Josephine answered for her friend. “After he was displaced, Arl Teagan rode straight to Denerim to petition the crown for help.” She raised an eyebrow. “I doubt he’ll want our assistance once the Ferelden army lays siege to his castle.”

“Wait!” Something in the tone of Leliana’s voice got their attention. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family.” Of course, Cullen thought. He had forgotten she had entered the castle with the Hero of Ferelden and the man who was now King Alistair when the Arl had been ill and his son possessed by a demon during the Blight. “It’s too narrow for our soldiers, but we could send agents through.”

Cullen mulled it over for a moment. “Too risky,” he declared. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction,” Leliana replied, a new conviction in her voice. “Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.”

So it came down to Lady Saibra again. “Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters? It’s risky but it could work.” It wouldn’t keep her out of danger, but the risk would be less than if they sent her in without support or tried to assault the keep.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.” Saibra couldn’t help but jump as the door behind her burst open to admit Dorian, closely followed by a frightened looking scout.

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.” The poor scout was trying desperately not to look at Leliana. She had a fierce reputation for discipline among her scouts, and Saibra didn’t envy him. She didn’t know what Leliana would do to him for letting Dorian interrupt their meeting, but she couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant.

Saibra caught Cullen glaring openly at the Tevinter mage, but Dorian seemed completely unflustered. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help.” He smiled. “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

Cullen glared at Dorian again, before turning to Saibra. The decision was out of his hands now. He already knew he had lost, but he couldn’t just let her walk out of there without making certain she was sure. “The plan puts you in most danger. We can’t in good conscience order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

“We go with Leliana’s plan. We ride for Redcliffe in the morning.”


	8. Dying to Red Lyrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra and Cullen have a heart to heart. But can their friendship survive the fallout from Redcliffe...?

It was late when Cullen came to sit next to Saibra on the docks. “Couldn’t sleep either, Commander?”

He sighed deeply. “No. But we’ve been through all the arguments already. I won’t rehash them with you now, when everything’s already settled. Just…” How could he phrase this in a way that wouldn’t scare her? Or make him seem a fool? “My biggest worry is for your safety.”

She gazed at him intently, those blue eyes seeming to pierce his soul, searching for something. “Answer me honestly. Are you worried because this… this thing on my hand may be the only way to seal the Breach? Or do you worry about Saibra Trevelyan?”

Cullen gazed out across the small lake. There was no right answer to that question. After a long moment he looked back and met her questioning eyes. “Honestly? Both. You’re right that without your mark we may never close the Breach and that could be the end of the world. But… I do care what happens to you, my lady. I miss our sparring and our talks when you’re not here.”

Something shifted behind her eyes. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she wasn’t unhappy with his answer. Her shy smile told him that. “I know that you want to keep things formal in the Council and in front of the troops. But please, when we’re alone like this, if you truly think of me as a friend, call me by my name? Please? I spend so much time being “the Herald” and “my lady”. I miss just being Saibra.”

That made him laugh. “I know that feeling well enough. It’s easy to forget my parents named me ‘Cullen Stanton Rutherford’ and not ‘Commander Cullen’!”

“Stanton?” she smiled back. “Simple but powerful. I like it.”

“And what other name did your parents bless you with, Saibra?” He hadn’t said it out loud before. But that name – Saibra – it just felt right for her.

Saibra pulled a face and straightened up. “The Lady Saibra Catalina Isabella Nicolette Trevelyan, at your service.” She slumped and made another disgusted face. “I can’t bear it. Vastra used to call me Skint.” She looked at him in horror. “Please don’t tell Varric that,” she begged. “Duchess is bad enough!”

He laughed again. It came easier now for some reason. They had finally broken the barrier of professionalism. Even if there was nothing more, now they were truly friends. “I promise. Though if you can get him to call me something other than ‘Curly’ I swear I will bow down and worship at your feet.” That made her laugh. “Didn’t Vastra have something equally nasty?”

“Nope. Technically she’s only my half-sister. Her mother seemed to have all the sense mine didn’t when it came to naming daughters. She got away with Vastra Jane Astella. Can’t make any nicknames out of that. Believe me I tried!”

He laughed again before leaning against one of the posts where boats would be tied in the summer when the ice melted. They sat in silence for a long time. Saibra was the one to break it. “I know you’re disappointed with me, Cullen. But we can’t leave a Tevinter mage with time magic running loose. And the mages have children with them. I can’t sentence them to slavery in Tevinter.”

“I know. And I do understand. But I saw you after you last tried to close the Breach. It nearly killed you. Pouring more power into the Mark… I’m just worried that even if it works, you won’t live through it.”

“I appreciate that, really, I do. But what do I matter compared with every other person in Thedas? If I have to die so everyone else can live…” she shrugged. “I don’t like it. And if I thought I had a choice, I might try and run from it. But I don’t. There is no one else.” She was staring at the Breach, watching it dye the night sky a sickly green. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” 

“For letting me be Saibra again. Just for a little while.” She stood, brushing invisible dirt from her breeches. “We should both get to bed,” she told Cullen. “It’s a hard ride to Redcliffe tomorrow.”

……………………………………………

“It’s not a matter for debate,” Cullen was furious. After everything that had happened – everything that they’d done – what did Saibra think she was doing to offer the mages a full alliance? “There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared!”

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst,” Josephine reminded him. As she had repeatedly over the course of the last hour. 

“What were you thinking?” he turned on Saibra as she and Cassandra arrived, cleaned up from the road. “Turning the mages loose with no oversight. The Veil is torn open!”

“Give them their freedom for now.” Even through his anger he could see something was terribly wrong. She and Dorian had given them a brief rundown of all that had happened to them when they travelled to the future. From what they’d said she’d seen some terrible things and her blue eyes were haunted by them. “If they prove later they can’t handle it, impose restrictions.” 

For all Cullen wanted to offer her some comfort after what she had been through, he couldn’t let go of his anger just yet. “And how many lives will be lost if they fail?” he demanded. “With the Veil broken, the threat of possession…”

“While I may not completely agree with the decision,” Cassandra interrupted, “I support it.” _Maker, what has the world come to when Cassandra Pentaghast has to play peacemaker,_ Cullen thought. “The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mage’s aid and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks!” drawled Dorian from where he’d propped himself up against a wall to listen to them. “And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

Cassandra curled her lip in disgust at the Tevinter. “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

“I got a taste of the consequences if we fail,” Saibra was storming past them towards the door. “Let’s make sure we don’t. We can discuss it later.”

……………………………………………

When one of the guards said that the Herald had left Haven two hours before and hadn’t returned, Cullen knew where he would find her. His anger had cooled and he realised Saibra would need to speak to someone of what she’d seen. And he should apologise. 

She was pacing around the logging camp where they usually trained. His heart tore a little when she wouldn’t even look at him. “You’ll be pleased to hear Madame de Fer agrees with you. I’ve told her she can help you train up some recruits to monitor the mages for abominations.”

“Saibra,” he tried. Her voice was so close to anger; he had never heard her work so hard to control herself before. She had only lost her temper a handful of times in the time he’d known her, and she’d always calmed quickly. She wasn’t one to hold onto a grudge, he knew.

“Just try to remember that they’re our _allies_ , not our enemies. At least _try_ to be discreet.”

“Saibra,” her pacing was making him dizzy. She whirled on him.

“Have you any idea what it’s like to be hated and feared for something you’re born with?” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Mages are born, not made. We have no more choice about what we are than Varric did about being born on the surface, or you did to have blonde curls.”

Suddenly she was in his face, furious, with tears overflowing her eyes and down her cheeks. “Do you watch me for abominations? Do you fear that any second, you’ll have to pull out that sword and take me down?”

“Saibra, no! Maker’s breath, you’re the first mage I’ve truly trusted in a long time!” He took a deep breath and tried to make the words come out, to tell her his story. But he couldn’t. “I… can’t talk about it. I’ve tried and it’s just too painful. But Leliana was there. Ask her about what happened at Kinloch Hold during the Blight. I’ll tell her she has my permission to tell you everything. I’m not proud of it, but there is a _reason_ I find it difficult to trust mages.”

And the anger was gone. He didn’t know how it had happened but she was sobbing into the fur collar of his cloak. And he was hushing her, stroking her back and making soothing noises. She felt so small and fragile in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I just… it’s too much. After everything I saw... And I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t stop seeing it.” Her words were running together in her distress. It was an effort for him to make out what she was saying. “I can’t stop seeing Fiona with red lyrium growing out of her. I can’t stop seeing Leliana slit a sick boy’s throat because she hated his father. I can’t stop seeing her and Bull and Varric dying for me. And I had to stand by and do nothing! I can’t look at them and not remember what it was like to see their eyes turned red with lyrium infection. Every time I close my eyes, I see Leliana in chains, tortured. And it was all _my_ fault. It’s killing me to know that that’s what will happen to all of you if I fail.”

Cullen just pulled her closer, lowering them down onto a pile of fresh cut timber. And he let her cry out all the fear, and anger and despair that seeing the future had cursed her with. And he wondered if he would be less scared of mages if someone had done this for him after Kinloch Hold.


	9. After the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does closing the Breach mean for Saibra and Cullen?

Cullen might have known it had been too easy. The mages had poured their power into Saibra and she had closed the hole in the sky. She hadn’t even passed out this time. So, they had celebrated. They should have waited.

One minute he was accepting a drink from Iron Bull, watching Saibra and Cassandra talking near Leliana’s tent. The next there were horns blaring and a pale boy at the gate telling them the Elder One was coming, angry that the Inquisition had “stolen his mages”.

And Saibra had looked to him for a plan. In the pinch they had found themselves, it hadn’t even been a bad one. Protect the ordinary citizens and refugees in the town. Fight outside the walls. They had trebuchets. It was doable.

He hadn’t counted on the archdemon.

He made it past Chancellor Roderick into the Chantry right ahead of Saibra, Varric, Dorian and the Iron Bull. Thank the Maker that Bull had appointed himself Saibra’s personal bodyguard – she was about as safe with the Qunari as she would have been with him. 

The blonde boy couldn’t stop talking as Cullen tried to get across the truth to Saibra – they were all going to die. At least this boy agreed with him that Saibra sacrificing herself wouldn’t save the villagers. 

“Herald,” he sighed. He couldn’t use her name. Not now. Not when they both had to be strong for so many. And he could watch a Herald die. He couldn’t watch Saibra die. “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven,” Saibra protested. Maker help him, but she was a fighter. 

“We’re dying,” he explained as gently as he could, “but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

“Chancellor Roderick can help!” interrupted the strange boy. “He wants to say it before he dies.”

Roderick was propped up against one of the wooden columns. There was a hideous red stain spreading slowly over the belly of his white robe. Cullen and Saibra bent over him, to hear the harsh voice softened by pain. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have.” For once there was no boast in the clerk’s voice. “The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.” The Chancellor coughed harshly, leaning on the boy, struggling to stand. “It was whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start… it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don’t know, Herald.” Cullen realised with shock that this was the first time Roderick had addressed Saibra that way. “If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more.”

He could see the hope in those incredible blue eyes as she turned from the dying man to him. “What about it, Cullen?” She had dropped his title, and he knew it was deliberate. She was going to leave him, to sacrifice herself for them all. Again. “Will it work?”

“Possibly. But what of _your_ escape.” She wouldn’t look at him. He could almost hear his heart breaking in the long silence. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” He knew he was grasping at straws. If she went back out there, faced that monster and his pet dragon, he would never see her again. 

The boy was helping Roderick to walk. He may be dying, but the Chancellor’s last act would be to save them all. All except Saibra. “Herald,” Roderick paused in front of her. “If you are meant for this – if the Inquisition is meant for this – I pray for you.”

She nodded to him, always gracious, even facing her death.

“Keep the Elder One’s attention,” Cullen asked her, trying to be all business, even though she still wouldn’t look at him, “until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance – if _you_ are to have a chance,” he insisted, “let that thing hear you.” 

Saibra looked at him at last. Took a step towards him. And he knew this moment would be added to his nightmares. That he would never forget the brush of her fingers on his cheek, or the tears in those eyes, as she whispered, “Goodbye, Cullen.” And then she walked out the door.

……………………………………………

Iron Bull, Varric and Dorian had been with her, helped her load the trebuchet. But they had been separated by the dragon. She had seen Dorian’s look of anguish. Watched Bull drag Varric away as he tried to get back to her. “Go,” she had screamed. And at last they had gone.

And now she was alone with the huge monster that had led an army of Red Templars against her people. It was painful to look at him. Barely more than a skeleton, organs exposed, fingers like claws, red lyrium shards piercing and stretching his skin. And, oh Maker, the malice in his eyes. 

She tried to be brave, screaming her defiance at the vile thing that called himself Corypheus. 

The pain in her left hand was unbearable, as he tried to remove her mark. The thing he called “the Anchor”. She prayed silently to Andraste, while swearing to this thing that the prophet was her shield and saviour. That She had gifted it, while Corypheus insisted it was stolen. While he vowed the throne of the Maker was empty.

Then he threw her against the trebuchet in temper. For a moment, the world went white with pain as she felt her shoulder blade snap again. It was too painful even to scream. While Corypheus railed about her spoiling the anchor, she reached for an abandoned sword. It was no staff. She had no idea how to use it, especially with only one functional arm. But it was the one thing between her and the monster.

Then she saw it. The handle of trebuchet. So close. And there it was. In the sky, ever so far away, one of Sera’s flaming arrows. Her friends were safe. Cullen's words came back to her: _let that thing hear you_. She was not going to go quietly.

“You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not. You’ll face us all. When we choose!”

She kicked the handle of the trebuchet and ran. She heard the archdemon take off behind her. Felt the rumble of the earth beneath her as she ran. There was a mountain coming down on her head. She saw a hole ahead, where a floor had collapsed. And she jumped.

……………………………………………

He hadn’t slept. None of them had. He had made Sera send the arrow up once the last of them had made it above the tree line and he had watched the snow come down the mountain onto what had been their home. They had gone a few miles further before the snow storm came down and they had made camp as best they could in the sheltered valley between two mountains. 

Dorian, Varric and Iron Bull had arrived shortly after that. They didn’t need to speak. The pain in their eyes, the anguish, had mirrored his own. He knew she was gone.

When the storm lifted, he had told the rest of the War Council he was going back. He hadn’t been able to save her, but he could at least find her body. Bury her. They had argued of course. Dawn was still a few hours away. He was needed in camp. He was insistent.

When he was halfway up the hill, he spotted a greenish glow. _Maker, not a rift, not now._ He had called to Cassandra, and she had brought a handful of recruits to help deal with any demons.

He stopped dead in shock when he got to the top. There were no demons, just a vision of his greatest desire. Then Cassandra ran into his back and the vision fell to her knees and face first into the snow. And it wasn’t a vision anymore. 

“There! It’s her!”

“Thank the Maker!” he heard Cassandra whisper behind him.

Cullen was the first one to her side. He yanked off his cloak and draped it over the small form before rolling her over to wrap her in it.

Saibra’s bloodcurdling scream as he moved her was definite proof she was real. As he raised her to a sit, he ran a hand gently along her back and winced as he felt the deformed left shoulder. “Shit!”

“Cullen?” Her eyes were open. Glazed with pain, cold and exhaustion, they were drained of their usual dazzling colour. But they were living eyes, struggling to focus on him.

“I’m here, Saibra. It’s all right, I’m here.”

“S-s-so… cold. It hurts, Cullen.” She was barely shivering. Maker’s breath she had climbed a mountain through a storm with a broken shoulder blade. How was she still alive?

“I know. It’ll be alright. I’ve got you.”

Cullen lifted her up as gently as he could. She whimpered quietly in his arms, but didn’t object.

“What’s wrong with her?” Cassandra had been hanging back with the recruits. Her face was tight with tension.

“Hypothermia, I suspect. And she’s rebroken her shoulder blade. It’s an old injury,” he added at the Seeker’s puzzled look. “Run ahead to the camp,” he ordered the scouts. “Gather the healers and make my tent as warm as possible. The Herald is alive.”

……………………………………………

Three days after she was pulled from the mountain, Saibra woke to hear the War Council arguing. Again. She struggled to sit up with one arm – her left hand was bound to her right shoulder to stop her moving it and unsettling the bone Vivienne, Dorian and Solas had worked so hard to put back into place.

“You need rest,” Mother Giselle chided. The cleric had been in constant attendance over the last three days. Though neither of them had said much, Saibra took some comfort in the Reverend Mother’s faith. Her own had been badly shaken by her stand-off with Corypheus.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Saibra objected. “If they’re arguing about what to do next, I need to be there.” Saibra tried to get up again. Why was everything so hard with only one arm?

“Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours.” Saibra just looked at her. Giselle sighed. “Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return.” Saibra knew she was gawping like a landed fish now, but she couldn’t help it. “The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained.” The Mother smiled at her, brown eyes soft and kind. “That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we,’ perhaps, must come to believe. 

Saibra looked away. She felt a fraud. “I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn’t die.”

“Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?”

“You saw Corypheus. What do you think of his claims of assaulting the heavens? He said he found only corruption and emptiness. Nothing golden.” Saibra didn’t want to believe him. All her life she had sung the Chant of Light and believed with all her heart. But what else but an absence of the Maker could create something so corrupt as Corypheus?

“If he entered that place, it has changed him without and within. The living are not meant to make that journey,” insisted Mother Giselle. “Perhaps,” she suggested thoughtfully, “these are lies he _must_ tell himself, rather than accept that he earned the scorn of the Maker? I know I could not bear such,” she ended sadly.

“I know in my heart that I was meant for this,” confessed Saibra at last, “but that didn’t help at Haven.” She had never admitted the belief that she had been chosen before, always hiding it behind her very real doubts. But only the Reverend Mother could give her the comfort of this confession. Even Cullen, who she had confessed everything else to, was looking at her differently now. There was something behind his eyes, and she couldn’t place it yet. She couldn’t bear it if he placed her on that pedestal now, when he was the only one she could truly be Saibra with. “I want to believe Andraste is with me, but doubt is everywhere.”

She walked away from the Mother to lean on the tent post, looking out at the council. The argument had broken up, but they all looked shattered. Leliana’s face was buried in her knees. Josephine huddled on a bench near the fire and looked to be in tears. Cullen paced, clenching and loosening his fist round the pommel of his sword, the way he always did when he was agitated. Cassandra poured over maps and charts on the table, but Saibra could see her hands shaking.

_“Shadows fall and hope has fled,  
Steel your heart the dawn will come.”_

The last thing Saibra had expected was for Mother Giselle to begin singing. She had a deep, resonant contralto, that echoed off the mountains surrounding them. The hymn was familiar, one of her mother’s favourites. She remembered Mama singing it to her or Vastra when one of them had woken from a nightmare.

_“The shepherd’s lost and his home is far.”_

Saibra had known Leliana had been a bard, but she had never heard the spymaster sing before. Such a beautiful clear soprano. More were joining now, flocking to the Reverend Mother standing next to her. She could pick out Cullen’s rich tenor. She had heard him sing in Chantry services in Haven, and she thought he would know his voice anywhere. He looked up and she caught his eye and for the first time since he had pulled her from the snow on the mountain, the smile he gave her reached his eyes.

Before she walked away to tend to the faithful, Mother Giselle leaned over and whispered into Saibra’s ear. “Faith is made stronger facing doubt. Untested, it is nothing.” 


	10. The Shelter in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra and Cullen share a couple of heart to hearts...

The refugees of Haven set off the next morning, following Saibra who followed directions from Solas. Much to the healer’s chagrin, she insisted on having her arm unbound.

Though they rarely walked together, Cullen was always close. He seemed to know her body almost as well as she did. When she started to tire, or her shoulder began to give her more pain, he would always find some excuse to stop the march. They never spoke of it, but each time he did, the smile she gave him felt like the sun coming out.

Two nights after they left the valley, Cullen was walking a circuit of the camp when he felt the lyrium in his blood tingling. Ever since he had been given his first dose of lyrium as a newly-made Templar, he had known when mages were performing magic nearby. It wasn’t as strong or insistent now, but he still had a sense of it. And there was only one mage he had ever been able to identify by the way the lyrium felt when she did magic. And she was under orders to rest.

He followed the call of his lyrium away from the camp, a little way off the path to a sheltered hollow hidden by trees. Sitting on a fallen log, she had her back to him. But he could see the pale blue glow dancing round the fingers she had laid over one shoulder, and the faint glimmer of green through the fingers of her other had.

Saibra jumped as she heard his footsteps behind her in the snow, guiltily pulling her right hand from her injured left shoulder. Cullen sat down next to her and enjoyed the comfortable silence for a moment.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to use your magic on it?” It wasn’t really a question, nor a condemnation. She could explain, or not, as she saw fit.

“Vivienne thinks I’ll use my magic to take away the pain and if it doesn’t hurt, I’ll overuse it.” She pulled a face. “I’m young but I’m old enough to know better than that. I don’t mess with the pain, but I do try and strengthen it and speed the healing a little. Besides,” she added with what he was coming to know as her cheeky grin – one she never used with anyone outside her inner circle – “I’m a better healer than any of them.”

He smiled back. The scared girl who had fallen from the Fade with a mark on her hand wouldn’t have had the nerve to try that kind of line on him, or anyone. Her trials had scarred her, but they had also shaped her into a stronger, more confident woman, even if sometimes it was little more than a brave face. “If you can’t sleep for it, maybe you should ease the pain a little,” he told her gently. “Rest will help as much as healing magic.”

“It’s not the pain that keeps me awake,” she admitted softly, looking away. “It’s the nightmares.” She shivered, and Cullen lifted his arm, a silent offer to use it and his cloak to warm her. Saibra looked aghast. “I couldn’t…”

“Please,” he insisted gently. “After everything else you’ve survived, I can’t let you freeze to death.” That brought a smile and she carefully settled herself in under his arm. She fit perfectly. Cullen allowed himself a small moment of joy. Maybe the Maker had built them to fit together so well.

“I spoke to Leliana. She told me about Kinloch Hold,” Saibra said at last. It was easier, talking to him about the tragedies in his past without looking at him. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard to work with the mages if I’d known. I shouldn’t have been so angry with you.”

“You couldn’t know. Not when I am incapable of talking about it. And you had just been through a terrible trauma of your own. We’ve had no issues so far. My mistrust seems to have been unworthy of me. Again.” They sat in silence for a moment, lost in memories of their own nightmares. “You seem more at ease with Leliana?” Cullen asked finally.

“I watched her die for me at Redcliffe. I know the Leliana there had a horrific time, but I had to talk to her about it. Thank her. Do you know what she said? ‘I always did love a bargain.’ To be frightened of a woman who’d cheerfully die for me and call it a bargain seemed petty and selfish. Unworthy of me, as you’d say,” she added with a smile.

“I think she’s finally started to come to terms with Justinia’s death. She was like a mother to Leliana long before she became the Divine. But if you’re not frightened of her anymore,” he ventured, “does that mean you’ll be sending field reports to her instead of me?”

Saibra laughed. “Only if you want to stop getting them.” She paused again. “You said once that you missed our talks when I wasn’t at Haven. I missed them, too. Sending you a report, getting a reply… it stopped me from feeling so lonely.”

“Lonely? You take a troop of companions with you whenever you go out. I’ll admit, I don’t find all of them particularly good company myself, but you’re not alone.”

“Maybe… but there are only a few of them who see me as more than a figurehead. Varric treats me as a friend, Dorian and I couldn’t be anything but after Redcliffe, but I’m not sure I could call anyone else a friend yet. You’re the only one I know I can just be Saibra with. I don’t have to pretend to be certain, or strong with you.”

“Saibra.” He wanted to say something, reassure her that she never had to pretend to be brave. But she was still the Herald. There was talk of making her the Inquisitor. She shifted slightly against him, curling in so her cheek was laid against his chest and he realised she had dozed off. _Thank the Maker I took off the armour_ , Cullen thought. At least she would be comfortable.

Leliana found them there an hour later. “You know my scouts tell me when the Commander and the Herald both leave camp and don’t come back,” she teased softly.

“We were just talking. Nothing more.” He was glad the darkness hid his flush of embarrassment. “Neither of us could sleep.”

The redhead sat down lightly on Cullen’s other side. “You know, you’d probably both sleep better if you admitted to what we all know you feel.”

“I can’t do that to her.”

“Do what? She cares for you as much as you do for her.”

“Does she? Do you know that for certain?” He demanded in a whisper. “Or am I just the only one she knows sees her as more than the Herald of Andraste? I won’t force my feelings onto her. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Cullen?” A sleepy voice murmured against his chest.

“It’s all right, Saibra. But we should get back to camp.” He glared at Leliana, daring her to say something. “They’ve sent out search parties for us.”

Saibra shot upright at that and winced as the movement jarred her tender shoulder. “Leliana! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to think and then the Commander found me and we got to talking and-“

“It’s fine, my lady,” Leliana smiled warmly. “But I’m sure you’ll both be much warmer back at camp. And you really should try and get some rest.” She turned and headed back to the camp, not waiting to see if they followed.

“Thank you, Cullen. I think I’ll be able to sleep now.” She was shy of him again, very aware that she’d fallen asleep on him and kept him up in the cold.

“Think nothing of it. Let me see you back to your tent.” He offered her his arm with a bow. “And don’t worry… I won’t tell Vivienne about your shoulder. I know you’re not fond of her but I’d gotten used to mages disliking me on principle and Vivienne’s views on Templars are… surprisingly traditional.”

“I’ve never disliked you on principle,” Saibra gave him her cheekiest grin.

“Oh. Um…” Cullen knew he was turning red again. “Thank you,” he finally muttered.

……………………………………………

Two evenings later, they entered Skyhold. There were holes in the roof, some walls were crumbling, but given it had been abandoned for who knew how long it was in surprisingly good shape. 

The next morning, Cassandra asked Saibra to walk with her. The mage was more than happy to agree, given that she’d spent the last half hour with Vivienne distrustfully prodding her shoulder, suspicious of the speed it was healing.

“You have come far since the Conclave. Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that… creature’s rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us.” 

Cassandra was leading her up the stairs towards the main hall. As far as Saibra knew, no one had been up there yet. “Where is this going?” she asked uncertainly, not sure if she was talking about the stairs or their conversation. 

“The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it.” The Seeker gestured to Leliana, who was descending the stairs to the middle landing, carrying what looked like a very old, very valuable greatsword.

Suddenly, Saibra was aware of all the people, crowding around the stairs, looking up at them. She glared at the Seeker and Spymaster. They had planned this. She looked down and found Cullen, standing next to Josie at the front of the crowd. He caught her eye and nodded. Whatever they were doing, he knew of it too. And approved. The thought gave her some comfort. “Perhaps I didn’t hear you correctly. A mage at the head of the Inquisition?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Cullen to ask Cassandra the question. Did he think she was worthy of this? 

“Not a mage.” Cassandra insisted. “You.”

“I happen to _be_ a mage,” Saibra reminded the Seeker, with a raised eyebrow.

“I will not pretend no one will object,” Cassandra admitted, “but times are changing. Perhaps this is what the Maker intended.” Leliana stepped forward, so Saibra could see the sword she held more closely. It was beautiful. The pommel was set with a large ruby, and a gleaming bronze dragon snaked its way around the hilt. “There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.”

Well, if they thought she was worthy… Saibra glanced down at Cullen, who smiled at her again. He would support her, whatever she decided. And if she took it up… She had been a figurehead ever since the Conclave, whether she willed it or no. She would still be one, even if she turned this down. And if Andraste had chosen her for this… At the very least, she could use this power to help people. She curled her fingers around the grip of the sword and reverently lifted it from Leliana’s hands. “I am but a servant of the Light. The Inquisition belongs to the faithful.”

“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra agreed. She leaned over the edge of the landing to call down to the other two advisors. “Have our people been told?”

Josephine looked like she was about to cry, but her smile was radiant as she called back, “They have. And soon, the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen tore his gaze from the beautiful woman to the crowd behind them, pacing up and down the line. “Inquisition!” he called in his best commander’s voice. “Will you follow?” He nodded at the roar of agreement. “Will you fight? Will we triumph?” The crowd was ecstatic. Haven had nearly broken them. The miracle of Saibra’s survival, finding Skyhold, had proved Mother Giselle right. This may be ordained by the Maker and they would stand behind their Herald against whatever Corypheus could throw at them. He drew his own greatsword and raised it in salute to the woman who had come back to him, against all the odds. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!” he roared. The crowd roared with him. Even Josephine had lost her poise and was jumping up and down cheering. When she saw Cullen watching, she stopped, looking for all the world like a child that had been caught stealing from the pantry.

Saibra saluted him back with the greatsword of the Inquisition. In all the crowd, he was the only person she had eyes for. Solas had once told her, “Have faith in the ability of the people around you to judge your abilities.” If Cullen truly believed she could do this, then maybe Andraste had chosen her after all.

……………………………………………

That evening, after the War Council had met to discuss the next steps, Saibra and Cullen took a walk out onto the battlements. There was rubble to be cleared away – a lot of work to be done on all of Skyhold, really – but the walkways were clear enough for a walk to stretch their legs. And Cullen had thought to requisition one of the towers round the outer wall for his office.

Neither Inquisitor or Commander had asked the other for company. They had just fallen into comfortable step. Vivienne had declared that it would be another week yet before Saibra could resume her training, longer before her shoulder would be back to full strength. But they had both missed the casual conversations that had come with the training.

She was quieter than normal, he realised. She had seemed to take the role they had thrust on her that morning in her stride, but was she just putting a brave face on it again. “Are you alright, Saibra?” he asked in a low voice.

“Everyone has so much faith in my leadership,” she sounded almost bitter. “I hope I’m ready.”

“You won’t have to carry the Inquisition alone,” Cullen reassured her. “Although it must feel like it,” he added, seeing her eyebrow raise.

She took a deep breath and let it out, then smiled softly. “Thank you, Cullen.” She paused and looked away, down at her boots on the walkway. “Our escape from Haven… It was close. I’m relieved that you- that so many made it out.”

That slip. Could Leliana be right? “As am I,” he replied with feeling. If she had meant it, he wanted her to know that he did too. There was a long silence as they both looked out at the sun setting across the mountains. “You stayed behind,” Cullen whispered at last. “You could have-“ He turned her to face him. “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again,” he vowed. “You have my word.”

“I know.” The utter faith in those sapphire eyes was almost frightening.


	11. Stumbling into Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra and Cullen finally realise what everyone else around them has known for a long time...

Life in Skyhold settled into a familiar pattern. While he put out feelers about Sampson and Corypheus, Leliana and Josephine worked to get them invited to the Winter Palace to meet Empress Celene and warn her of the assassination plot. Saibra would leave for a few days to deal with one or another minor issue, taking one or two of her inner circle with her. 

Actually it was mostly concerns of her friends that took Saibra out of Skyhold. A Red Jenny thing for Sera that ended with neither woman speaking to the other for three days. An attempt to help Josephine restore her family’s standing in Orlais. None of it was particularly important or vital in the grand scheme of things, but Saibra couldn’t be kept from helping her people and the War Council agreed that after Haven it would be good to have her seen out and about, prove to the world that she was alive and the Inquisition was still a force to be reckoned with.

The latest had been a trip to Redcliffe with Dorian to meet his father. Dorian had come back sad and quiet. Leliana had quietly suggested Cullen could cheer him up with a game of chess, knowing both men played. Cullen still wasn’t sure what to make of the Tevinter mage, but Saibra trusted him completely, so he supposed he should give the man a chance. It had been surprisingly enjoyable and Cullen was two moves away from winning when Saibra found them.

She had been hoping to speak to Mother Giselle, to tell the cleric that any future letters from Dorian’s family were to be brought straight to her when she spotted her friends playing. They made an odd pair; the serious, reserved, blonde former Templar and the playful, flamboyant, dark Altus. But their teasing seemed good-natured and it was good to see Cullen smiling and relaxed. Even if he did knock the board nearly jumping out of his chair when he saw her.

Dorian took his loss as gracefully as a proud man could and vacated his seat for Saibra with a wink that made her blush. She hadn’t played in years, but it felt good to be so close to him. And their talk was more relaxed than it had been since that evening on the walls. Maybe it was possible he liked her as much as she liked him. But could he really overcome the fact that she was a mage, when her kind had caused him so much pain?

“Dorian actually said that?” Cullen laughed in disbelief, and Saibra smiled with him. She couldn’t believe Cassandra hadn’t told him the story already. “What did Solas do?”

“He just looked Dorian up and down, you know that way he does, and ever so politely said ‘Please speak up. I can’t hear you over your outfit.’”

They roared together with easy laughter. “This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition – or related matters.” Cullen told her. “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

She smiled shyly up at him. Maybe it was time to test the waters. “We should spend more time together.

Her heart twisted as he gave her the half smile that he seemed to reserve just for her. “I would like that.” The instant reply sent butterflies spiralling through her stomach. 

“Me too.” Saibra kicked herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She had made the suggestion!

“You said that,” Cullen muttered with a soft smile, his eyes like liquid gold, melting her insides. Then he looked away, for all the world as if he was as shy of her and she was of him. “We should… finish our game.”

She had beaten him. Just. But they had made plans to play together again when she returned from the trip to Val Royeaux she was making the next day with Josephine. It gave her something to look forward to.

……………………………………………

Saibra thought over what Cullen had said the whole way to Val Royeaux and back. The time they had spent together since arriving at Skyhold. When they had spoken of Haven on the battlements, he looked as though the thought of losing her terrified him. When she said she wanted to spend more time with him that look in his eyes… it was the same one she’d seen when he looked at her after Haven – the one she hadn’t been able to identify. Maybe it hadn’t been reverence; maybe it had been… something better.

Finally, Josephine had asked her what was wrong as they settled into their room in a roadside tavern for the night. “I am the one with a House of Repose contract on her life. But you are the one who looks as if she is being hunted.”

“I just… if I ask you something Josie, do you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“What… what do you think of Commander Cullen?”

“The Commander is an intelligent, cautious man. I’m grateful he’s in charge of our standing army. Still, he does sometimes resemble the man with a hammer to whom everything appears a nail,” Josephine smiled uncertainly at her.

“Yes, but… do you know what he thinks of _me_?” Saibra finally asked.

The diplomat’s eyes lit up. “My lady, the man worships the ground you walk on. And not because he believes you sent by Andraste. It nearly broke him to leave you at Haven. And when we found you alive… I’d never seen a man so happy.”

“Even though I’m a mage?”

Josephine laughed. “My lady – Saibra – you could be a three-headed monstrosity and I think our Commander would still adore you. Is this what has been worrying you? That you care for him?”

“I… I…” Saibra sighed. “I’ve never had anyone to talk to about these things. Maybe if I hadn’t been sent to the Circle, my sister…” She slumped down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone, but I can’t… how could I say anything and lose his friendship if I’m wrong?”

“Saibra,” Josephine crouched at her feet, gently pulling the Inquisitor’s hands away from her face. “Only you and Cullen can’t see what you feel for each other. Varric is taking bets on how much longer it will be before one of you decides to do something about it. Cullen never will. He thinks himself too far beneath you. If you go to him, he will not say no. But if you really want this, you will have to make the first move.”

……………………………………………

Talking to Josephine had helped build her nerve up, even if she wasn’t as confident of Cullen’s response as the diplomat was. As soon as she returned to Skyhold, Saibra made her way up to the tower Cullen had claimed for his own.

“Inquisitor,” his smile was warm and inviting. “How was Val Royeaux?”

“Cullen, do you have some time? Could we take a walk? Alone?” It came out far more rushed than she had planned. 

Cullen frowned. “Alone…? I mean, of course.” As they set off along the battlements, Saibra felt her nerves taking over. He was so close. It would take nothing for her fingers to brush his hand. But once again she found herself tongue-tied. “It’s… uh… a nice day,” Cullen finally mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” Saibra was thrown completely from her train of thought.

“It’s… There was something you wished to discuss?” Maker, he really might be as nervous as she was. This was ridiculous.

“Cullen,” it came tumbling out in a rush. “I care for you, and-“ She stopped. What if he really couldn’t get past it. 

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice nearly broke her heart.

“You left the Templars, but do you trust mages?” she asked softly, “Could you think of me as anything more?”

“I could. I… I mean I do… think of you.” He broke her gaze, looking at his boots. “And what I might say in this sort of situation.”

Saibra laid a hand on his arm. This would be easier now. He did care. “What’s stopping you?” she asked gently.

“You’re the Inquisitor.” The intensity in his voice was painful. “We’re at war. And you…” He stepped closer to her as she leant against the outer wall. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“And yet I’m still here,” she shrugged. She could feel the warmth of his body against her.

“So you are…” His voice was a low rumble that left her feeling weak at the knees as he took another step closer. She felt like his hands on her waist were all that held her upright. “It seems too much to ask.” Her eyes drifted closed, waiting for the touch of his lips. “But I want to-“

“Commander!”

Saibra cursed the blasted scout internally as Cullen took a step back from her, eyes flashing like golden fire. It was the same idiot Leliana had chewed out for allowing Dorian to interrupt the council meeting when he first arrived in Haven. Jim, she thought his name was. And he was so busy looking at the report he carried, he hadn’t even noticed he was interrupting something. 

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.”

As Cullen turned to the idiot scout, Saibra tried to sink into the wall.

“What?” She didn’t think she’d ever heard Cullen growl like that.

“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.” It took Jim’s brain a moment to catch up with his ears and he looked up. Even from where she was trying to blend into the stonework, Saibra could feel Cullen’s eyes boring into the scout as he loomed over the boy, at his most intimidating when roused. “Or…” Jim had finally caught on. He started backing away slowly, never taking his eyes off the commander, like someone who’d accidentally stumbled into a bear’s den. “To your office… Right…”

Saibra sighed as the boy made it through the door. The interruption would have given Cullen time to reconsider. The moment was lost. “If you need to-“

Her words were cut off by his lips. His hands were on her neck and the back of her head, fingers snaking into her hair. The contrast of his soft lips and the rough stubble surrounding them made her gasp in delight. It was short, but filled with the months of longing and wishing they’d both been doing.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, pulling away. “That was… um… really nice,” he finished, softly. There was that look again. The one he seemed to keep just for her. 

“You don’t regret it, do you?” she asked, still unsure, still wanting to give him a way out if he wanted it.

“No!” His first response was startled instinct. “No,” he repeated more firmly. “Not at all.” He leaned in to kiss her again. This time, it was softer, less urgent. She could feel the line of his scar against her own top lip. Unable to stop herself, her tongue flicked out to touch it. He gasped in surprise and pulled her closer. Saibra wound her arms around his neck.

And he pulled away again. “Saibra…” he looked so torn, it almost broke her heart. “I want this – want _you_ – more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. But there’s something I need to tell you, before this goes too far.” He began to pace, looking anywhere but at her. “It might change how you feel about… beginning anything with me.”

“Cullen,” she laid a hand on his arm as he passed her, stopping his restless movements. “You can tell me anything.”

“You know the… relationship Templars have with lyrium? Of course you do; you’re a mage. When I left the Order, when Cassandra recruited me… I no longer take it.”

Whatever Saibra had been expecting it wasn’t that. “That could kill you!”

He shrugged and looked at her at last. “It hasn’t yet.”

“Cullen… this doesn’t change anything. I just…” her voice was quiet as she gazed into his eyes, searching for the truth. “Are you in pain?”

“I can endure.” His smile was sad. Saibra reached up to stroke his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Let me help. Please? I… I know nothing will make it easier, make the cravings less or stop the nightmares, but… let me take care of the pain for you?” That was Saibra all over, Cullen thought. A healer, a fixer of people. It was what had made her such a good leader for the Inquisition. She was compelled to help people.

“If I need it,” he sighed, “I’ll ask.” They both heard the unspoken words that he was a proud, stubborn man. Asking for help wouldn’t come easily. But she smiled at him, the smile that lit up his days. He kissed her again, a sweet kiss, full of promise for the future.

“So,” Saibra asked as they walked arm in arm back along the ramparts towards his office, “the Commander of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste. That will have people talking.”

Cullen laughed, and for the first time, Saibra thought he sounded truly free. “You wouldn’t believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks.”

“You don’t mind?” Saibra asked. She had expected wariness, nerves, not laughter.

“I would rather that my… _our_ private affairs remain that way,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck again. “But if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I’d regret it more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About freaking time.


	12. Burdens of Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra gets drunk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write. I love drunk!Saibra

Cullen had been tossing and turning for about an hour when he heard the door of the next tower slam open and a group of drunken revellers pour through. There were times when he wasn’t sure which was the bigger disadvantage to his tower – the fact that there was an entrance to the tavern just along the battlements or the broken roof. At least he hadn’t been asleep this time. The nightmares had woken him already.

“Well, my dear, we’re here now. You have to decide what you want to sing for him.” That was Dorian’s unmistakable drawl.

“His helmet’s a lion head, right? So maybe that one about Fire and a lion’s reign?” Bull’s deep voice.

“Nah. Too _Orlesian_ ,” Sera drew out the word in a tone of complete disgust. “Wha’ about Enchanters?”

“Duchess can hardly sing that to a man who used to be a Templar, Buttercup.” Varric’s slightly slurred words brought a groan to Cullen’s throat. The first time they had played chess Saibra had mentioned that one of the things she missed after going into the Circle had been her singing lessons. He had said he’d like to hear her sing sometime. And now she’d obviously got drunk and brought a group of her friends to join in.

He barely heard Varric’s absurd suggestion of “Sera Was Never” and Sera’s replying threats of violence to anyone who dared sing that in her presence while he got up, pulled on his boots, and descended the ladder. He had to stop this nonsense before it got out of hand.

_“Once we were in our peace with our lives assured,  
Once we were not afraid of the dark.”_

The voice stopped him dead. It was loud and clear and beautiful. Like Leliana she was a soprano, but while the spymaster’s voice was a high sweet bell, Saibra’s voice was a rich, full mezzo-soprano, soaring to the high notes, before sweeping huskily down to the lows. The drunken bickering of her friends had stopped, too. 

Cullen opened the door as quietly as he could, as she began the second verse. A small part of his mind registered that Dorian was leaning comfortably against Bull’s broad chest and filed it away to wonder at later. But when he spotted her, she filled his vision.

Saibra was leaning on the crenulations, looking away from the group (and his door) towards the mountains. He hadn’t seen her hair down since after they’d pulled her off the mountain after Haven. A breeze blew the long chestnut waves away from her face, and they softened the sharper features of her chin and cheekbones, making her look younger and more vulnerable.

_“We held together the fragile sky,  
To keep our way of life.”_

She finished. It was if a spell had been broken. People were able to move, to look around again.

Iron Bull was the first to spot the Commander. “Boss, I think we woke him up.”

“Cullen!” Saibra turned towards him beaming. While her singing voice had been clear, her eyes had the glassy bent of one who was absolutely out of it with drink. She took two steps towards him, tripped over her own feet, and was only saved from hitting the stone walkway face-first by Iron Bull grabbing the collar of her coat and holding her up. She glared at the Qunari, shook herself like an offended Mabari, and finally managed to reach him and fling her arms around him, nuzzling her head into his bare shoulder.

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask what you’re all doing outside my tower at this time of night? And what in the Maker’s name has she been drinking?”

“Maraas-lok,” explained Dorian. “It’s one of Bull’s.” 

Varric had the grace to look shamefaced. “We were celebrating killing that dragon yesterday.”

“Inky just wanted t’ sing fer her Cully Wully,” Sera chimed in from her perch on the wall behind the rest of the group.

Iron Bull seemed the soberest of the lot. “We didn’t think it was a good idea to let her try and come up here on her own. She’s not exactly steady on her feet.”

“I am perfectly steady, thank you very much,” Saibra enunciated a little too carefully into his chest.

Cullen sighed. “I’ll take her from here.” He steered her back into his tower to a chorus of ‘goodnight’s’. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked the drunken girl once the door had closed behind him.

“Mmm. You could kiss me.” She tilted her face up to him, grinning with her eyes closed.

“Not until you’ve chewed some mint!” Cullen protested. “Maker’s breath that stuff smells rank. Come on, I’ll take you to your rooms.”

“We could just go upstairs,” Saibra protested, but didn’t object as he guided her through the door onto the bridge between his tower and the main keep.

“I’d never get you up the ladder in one piece.”

He led her carefully through Solas’ (thankfully empty) rotunda and the main hall. When they got to the stairs to her tower, she tripped again and it was only his arm around her waist that kept her upright. Sighing again he lifted her into his arms and carried her up to her rooms.

“What were you thinking, getting drunk on whatever Qunari swill Iron Bull had?” Cullen asked her as he deposited her on her bed.

“The dreadnaught.” 

Her voice sounded so suddenly wretched that he looked up from where he had begun trying to undo the buckles on her boots. “I’m sorry?”

“Ever since we let the dreadnaught go to save the Chargers, Bull’s been so… sad. He’s spent his life chasing down Tal Vashoth and believing they were all mad. And now he’s one himself he’s just so… sad. Dorian helps, but killing that dragon in the Hinterlands was the first time I’ve seen him happy since and I didn’t want him to stop being happy.” Her voice cracked and he watched silent tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” Cullen gathered her into his arms. “No, sweetheart. None of it’s your fault.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the sweet crystal grace scent of her soap filling his nose.

“But it is. There was a choice. Tell the Chargers to retreat or leave them to die keeping the Venatori occupied and saving the dreadnaught. He didn’t know what to do and I told him to save the Chargers. I just… he wouldn’t be Iron Bull without Krem and Dalish and the others. He’d be Hissrad.”

“You made the right call,” Cullen assured her. “I don’t think Bull would ever have recovered if he’d left his men to die like that.”

“No?” the quaver in her voice broke his heart.

“Bull will struggle with being Tal Vashoth, the same way you struggle with being the Herald and I do with the choices I made as a Templar. But he’s as strong as any of us. He’ll learn to live with it. The same way you have.”

He held her for a long time, but when he stood to leave she grabbed his hand. “Stay?”

“Saibra,” his voice was gentle as he stroked her face. “I don’t want it to be like this. Not the first time.”

“No,” she agreed. “But stay anyway. Just to sleep?”

He couldn’t resist the pleading tone in her voice. She wasn’t the Inquisitor tonight. She was a lost little girl, afraid of the dark and the demons of her own mind. He pulled off his boots and settled her into his arms. She clung to him and he fell asleep with the scent of crystal grace swirling round him.


	13. Letters From the Oasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra manages to annoy Leliana, but Cullen is delighted...

“Message for you, Ser.” The scout, Jim, stopped in the doorway. Cullen was half sure that the only reason the boy even dared enter the room was that he knew the Inquisitor was away from Skyhold. He probably _had_ been a little harsh on the lad, but Cullen would never have forgiven him if his interruption had scared Saibra off.

“Who is it from?” He asked trying to keep the irritation of his headache out of his voice as he held out his hand. The last time he’d had a decent night’s sleep was the night he had spent in Saibra’s rooms. That sleep had been worth the embarrassment he had suffered creeping back to his tower the next morning. The lyrium withdrawals seemed so much worse in the few days she’d been away.

“I don’t know, Ser,” Jim admitted cautiously. “I don’t recognise the seal.”

That peaked Cullen’s interest. He dismissed the boy with a wave as he examined the seal. A lion and a horse faced each other, both rearing. He flipped it over and instantly recognised the clear neat script of Saibra Trevelyan. Of course – the horse of House Trevelyan and the lion of his helmet. 

He laughed out loud as he broke the seal. Leliana was going to kill her. It would hardly be subtle for anyone who knew anything about the Inquisition’s most senior members. And it seemed Saibra knew it.

_My Cullen,_

_I’m sure our Nightingale is having kittens right about now, but if she wants my official reports, she will just have to accept that I send more informal letters to my Commander._

_I’m quite sure this dratted place was named the Forbidden Oasis for a reason. It’s all sand, wind, and impossible to navigate terrain. Dorian claims the Tevinter name for it translates to something incredibly rude. I refuse to repeat it, so you’ll just have to ask him yourself next time you play chess._

_The place is crawling with Venatori, so Bull is perfectly happy. I’m glad I brought him along. He’s been talking to Cole. I know how you feel about me travelling with a spirit, but he is good at helping people and he’s said some things that seem to have helped Bull make peace with his decision. And if he and Dorian aren’t sleeping together yet it won’t be long. Maker, those two talk some filth when they’re together!_

_I miss you terribly, but hopefully we can clear out the Vints, claim the Temple for the Inquisition and get back to Skyhold soon._

_Your Saibra_

_Also, Dagna made the seal. She has one for you too if you have time to write. Don’t work too hard, my love._

It was everything he had needed. She was well, and safe. If the Iron Bull was starting to accept his exile from the Qun, Saibra could stop tormenting herself over her role in his decision. The letter was funny and warm. And she missed him, too. 

He immediately got up to go and get his seal so he could reply, but ran into Leliana at the door. 

"Commander-“ she began. 

“She said you’d be angry.” Cullen held his hands up in surrender. “I knew nothing about it until the message arrived. Though I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.” 

“I just wish she had told me of it. I have assigned you special birds, extra protections from interception…” The spymaster shook her head. “At least tell me she isn’t telling you anything privately that should be in an official report.” 

“Not unless you want to know that the Tevinter call the Oasis something rude or that Bull particularly enjoys killing Venatori.” He couldn’t help adding in a quieter voice. “Or that she misses me.” 

Leliana’s face softened. “I am pleased for you both,” she confessed. “Whether you believe it or not, you both deserve to be happy. Though I could wish you had been more discreet about it…” 

“I was going to write her a reply,” Cullen admitted. “If there are precautions you would have us take, let me know of them, and I’ll make sure we both use them.” 

“That is all I ask, Commander.”

…………………………………………… 

“Milady, there’s a special report waiting for you.” 

Saibra sighed. Could she not have five minutes’ peace? She had just finished writing the official report of their entry into the Solasan Temple. Before that she’d spent two hours being poked, prodded and investigated by the other mages to ensure she hadn’t been harmed by… whatever it was that had entered her. 

She took a deep breath, so as not to snap at the poor scout. “What kind of report, Lissa?” 

“I don’t know, Your Worship. It’s labelled for the Inquisitor’s eyes only and came with instructions that any reply should be made using the same bird.” The scout paused, as if she wasn’t certain whether she should continue. “The bird is Baron Plucky, milady.” 

“Baron Plucky? Truly?” That was Leliana’s favourite, and fiercest raven. “Let me see.” 

Lissa handed over a rolled parchment and Saibra almost sighed in relief to see the horse and lion seal. “It’s all right, Lissa. I know what this is. There will be a reply. You’d better send someone out to hunt down a fennec. Distracting him with a fresh kill is the best way to get a message onto Plucky and keep your fingers intact. Oh, and send this off immediately, please,” she handed the girl the official report. “For Sister Leliana.” 

As soon as Lissa had left the tent, Saibra broke the seal and slumped onto the chair by her portable desk. 

_My beloved lady,_

_By now you will be aware that our Nightingale has insisted on some extra precautions for our letters. We should probably apologise to the scouts; that bird is a menace._

_All is well here, though I have heard some mutterings that Mother Giselle is not best pleased that Dorian didn’t return to Tevinter with his father. You might want to warn him trouble is brewing. And remind him he still owes me five royals from the last time I bested him at chess._

_I miss you hourly, but I’d rather you were careful and took your time so you can come back in one piece._

_With all my heart  
Cullen _

Saibra smiled. So like him to insist on caution over speed. Well, they were done here. She picked up her quill and began her reply. 

_My Commander,_

_I know you will have seen the official report by now and no doubt you are frantic. Please try not to worry. Dorian, Solas and Vivienne have been very thorough in their examinations. I am fine, if a little more fireproof. Which is no bad thing if we have an archdemon to face._

_I will follow this letter in the morning, so in a week you will be able to see for yourself that I am safe and well and whole._

_Your Saibra_


	14. Quick, Quick, Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a time of war, when you spend so much time apart, how do Saibra and Cullen set the pace of their relationship?

They waited for Saibra in the War Room. She had made it quite clear back at Haven that she hated a fuss being made whenever she returned from a mission, and she had begun to make a routine out of it now. War Room for a debrief, then make her rounds of Skyhold. 

She had been away nearly a month, and Cullen was as eager to see Saibra as a lovestruck teenager. He had been pacing the room ever since the advance scouts had sent word that the Inquisitor’s party would be arriving within the hour.

“Commander, if you do not sit down you will wear a path in the floor,” Josephine tried her best to sound stern but could not keep the amusement out of her voice.

“Ambassador-“ Cullen began to growl, but was interrupted by the door opening. And there she was. Hair swept into its neat bun, cream leather enchanter’s coat dusty from the road, smiling and perfect. “Inquisitor. We were-“

“Eagerly awaiting your presence,” Leliana interrupted smoothly. Though she couldn’t help adding “Some of us more than others.” 

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was…” Cullen stammered, flushing, before taking a deep breath. “We have work to do.”

“Of course.” Cullen wished he could do something about how smug Leliana sounded.

Saibra moved from her usual position opposite him across the War Table to between him and Leliana. Her long fingers brushed his arm as she whispered, “I missed you, too.”

Other than Saibra’s new position, the War Council proceeded as normal. Saibra gave a full recounting of the events at the Temple and advised that Cullen station a few more soldiers at the nearby Inquisition camp to bolster Leliana’s scouts and prevent the Venatori from trying to retake it from them. There were still three doors they needed to find shards to open.

Then Leliana gave her the bad news. “I know you like to rest your team between missions but we need you to head to the Exalted Plains as soon as possible.”

“Isn’t that where the Empress and her cousin are fighting their civil war? Why in the world would we want to get involved in that mess?”

“We don’t,” agreed Josephine. “But we need to get you into the Winter Palace to try and prevent Celene’s assassination. So we need to do something to get their attention, encourage them to invite you.”

“Something strange is going on out there,” Leliana handed Saibra a sheaf of papers. “These are reports from my agents. There are reports of deserters, a group called the Freemen, and then nothing. There is no word coming in or out of the Plains. From either side.”

“And it can’t wait,” Saibra sighed in resignation. “You have to give me two days.” Cullen was impressed with how firm she sounded. For all that she had warmed to Leliana, he knew the spymaster still intimidated her. “There’s no way we’ll be able to have our equipment repaired and supplies ready in any less.

Leliana, it seemed, had decided this wasn’t going to be her battle. “Scout Harding left a few hours ago. She can set up a base camp on the edge of the Plains and scout out the area before your arrival.”

After a few more minutes discussing the minutia of her trip, the Council broke up. “Commander, a word?” Saibra asked loudly.

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Cullen’s reply was equally professional, but he could hear Leliana and Josephine giggling as they left.

As soon as the door closed, Saibra was in his arms and Cullen was kissing her thoroughly. When they came up for air, she sagged against him, resting her cheek on the fur collar of his cloak and murmured, “Oh, Maker, I needed that.”

Cullen chuckled into her hair. “You’re not the only one.”

She looked up at him then, big blue eyes worried. “Cullen… stay with me tonight.”

He sighed. “Saibra…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say it’s too soon. Or that there will be gossip. Or both.” She was picking up speed again. Cullen was reminded of that afternoon in Haven when she had first asked him to train her. She was trying to get all her arguments in before he told her no. He leaned against the War Table, as she began to pace in the same place he’d been pacing earlier. “But I thought we agreed that when it came to gossip, we were just happy there was something for people to gossip about. And I’m not asking for marriage. I’m not even asking for… sex.” She flushed. “Just to be together. We only have two days and I’m going to be spending them getting sand out of my things and getting supplies together while you drill your troops and deal with requisitions and whatever other paperwork Josie and Leliana throw at you. If we don’t spend our nights together, we won’t see each other at all. And I remember what happened at Haven. We both lead dangerous lives. I don’t want either of us to regret later that we didn’t spend more time together when we had the chance. And it’s not like you didn’t stay with me that night Bull got me absolutely bladdered, and-”

“You make a good point,” Cullen acknowledged, rubbing his neck. “Several of them.” He caught her wrist as she past and pulled her to him. Saibra moved to lean on him, but he tilted her chin up so she could see his face. “But you need to rest and I… You won’t be surprised to hear I’ve had nightmares since Kinloch. Since I stopped taking lyrium they’re… that much worse. I can’t rob you of sleep when you need it so much.”

That made Saibra smile sadly at him. “Cullen, I fell out the Fade, visited an apocalyptic future, and faced a darkspawn magister and his pet dragon. You think I don’t wake up screaming most nights?”

“I… I don’t suppose I’d thought of it that way,” he confessed. “All right,” he finally caved. I’ll stay with you tonight, but if I keep you awake, I won’t stay tomorrow.”

……………………………………………

Cullen stood nervously in the middle of Saibra’s rooms. _This was such a bad idea_ , he thought. He hadn’t had a chance to _do_ anything with anyone before the disaster at Kinloch. In Kirkwall, he had stuck to quick and quiet visits to the city’s more discreet brothels. He’d never actually just spent the night sleeping with someone. He wasn’t sure this wasn’t more intimidating than sex.

When he had managed to stammer something at Saibra about what he should wear, she had told him he should probably wear clothes to come to her room. Unless he wanted to make it even more obvious where he was spending the night. Then she had taken pity on him and replied more seriously that for sleeping the loose britches he had been wearing to bed the night she came to serenade him would be fine. 

It might not have been so bad if Saibra had even been there, but she had been meeting with the three trainers Josephine had brought to Skyhold to try and decide her new magical speciality. As it turned out, nobody but Saibra thought it was a good idea for the Inquisitor to simply be a battlefield healer. She had dropped the key to her room off in his office before she went to meet them, smiling that she expected him to be waiting for her with a bottle of wine when she was finished. Even picking the wine had been difficult until Dorian had taken pity (Cullen wasn’t sure whether that pity was more for him or for poor Cabot, who was dealing with his barrage of questions) and had simply told him the name of Saibra’s favourite wine.

He was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room when Saibra came sweeping in. “Maker, that wasn’t fun. I’m not sure which of them is most insane – the necromancer, the slave-driving enchanter or the one that can’t even remember her name. And why in Andraste’s name did Leli insist I had to meet them after dinner? Couldn’t it have waited until morning?” She was dashing round the room, tossing her coat onto the railing of the stairs, kicking her boots into a corner under the washstand, dropping her coin purse onto a very messy desk. She spotted the bottle in his hand and swooped it up. “Oh, Cullen, you got my favourite! I don’t think I ever told you how much I love cherry wine. Or anything cherry. Did-“

“Saibra, please,” Cullen pleaded. “You’re making my head spin.”

She stopped dead before looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Cullen. I ramble and fidget when I’m nervous. Please,” she took his night trews from him and tossed them onto the end of the bed before leading him to the couch, “forgive me.”

Cullen smiled at her. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just… I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”

“That’s why I suggested the wine,” she grinned. “We change and then we sit and drink wine and talk until we’re ready to sleep.”

“Uh… right… we change…” Cullen had forgotten that bringing a change of clothes would mean undressing in front of her.

She stilled his stuttering with a gentle kiss. “I’ll change behind the screen. You can change out here or in the privy. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for you to see me naked yet either. I know this is a big deal. For both of us. We take it as slow as we need to.”

……………………………………………

Cullen was used to snapping out of the Fade wide awake from a nightmare. So it was pleasant to come to slowly, as the room began to lighten with the dawn. It seemed incredible to him that he’d managed to sleep the night through. No bad dreams.

They had talked for hours; in a way they’d never had the chance to before. Without discussing it, they seemed to have left all talk of the Inquisition or their respective Circles at the door, concentrating more on likes and dislikes, hobbies, tales of themselves as children.

Saibra was still curled tightly into him, one arm draped across his body, her hand on his hip, head pillowed on his shoulder. As the light travelled up the room to hit her face, she groaned and tried to bury her face into his chest. Cullen kissed the top of her head, enjoying the feel of her soft hair on his face. “I think it’s morning, love.”

“Morning can go fuck itself,” he heard her mutter into his shoulder. He laughed at that. Cassandra had told him she wasn’t a morning person, always the last up in the morning when they were in the field. ‘Grumpy as a wounded wyvern’, was how Varric had put it when he’d overheard.

“I know, I know,” he smiled. “But I have to go. Morning drills don’t run themselves…”

She lifted her head and groaned. But when she sat up and looked down at him, lying next to her she couldn’t help smiling at him. “Morning, Cullen,” her voice was soft again, shy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully,” he smiled back, sitting up.

“You’ll stay tonight?” The hope and fear in her voice nearly broke him. She needed this as much as he did, Cullen realised. When had he become her safe place? Did she realise she had become his?

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replied. And he meant it.


	15. Letters From the Plains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distance makes it hard to have a relationship

_Beloved,_

_I know you like me to travel with as full a company of people as possible, but I should never have brought Solas or Vivienne. He keeps huffing about lost Elven glories and when she’s not sulking about conditions, she’s picking fights with everyone else. Poor Cole got an earful this morning. I’ve a good mind to send them both back to Skyhold._

_Truth be told all our tempers are rather frayed. Conditions here are awful. Between the Freemen, the walking dead and the demons, we’re all exhausted. The problems here seem so deep rooted that it will take a miracle to sort them out. We’re probably going to be here several weeks._

_I wish you were here to talk to. You always know what to say to calm me when I’m frazzled. And I feel constantly frazzled here._

_Send me some good news? Please?_

_S_

Saibra sighed as she put her initial to the bottom of the parchment and blotted the page. She hated to sound so depressing in her letters, but the journey had taken days and now they were here it had taken a few days to get an idea of conditions. She hadn’t written for a week. She’d only managed to find the time now because she had insisted she needed to write a report for the council.

She could hear her group outside, arguing over dinner. Dorian and Cassandra were sniping at each other now. Saibra could only hope Cullen was having a better time at Skyhold than she was here.

……………………………………………

Cullen put down her letter with a heavy sigh. The report they’d had from Scout Harding while Saibra and her party had been on the road had not been encouraging. The copy of the official report Leliana had given him along with his private letter had given a full picture of the difficulties Saibra faced in the Exalted Plains, but he had hoped that her letter would tell him she was doing well. Instead, it was the most miserable he’d ever heard her sound.

He was suffering in her absence. Just as when she had been away in the Forbidden Oasis, the lyrium withdrawal had been worse, as had the nightmares. He had once or twice considered taking up the offer Saibra had made of sleeping in her room while she was away but dismissed it. It was not the change of venue that made the difference. It was the presence or absence of the one person he had found was capable of bringing him peace.

Still, he was the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. He needed to remain strong and focused for them. And if Saibra gave him the peace and comfort he craved while she was in Skyhold the least he could do would be to do the same for her in his letters while she was away.

He picked up his quill and began to think hard.

_My love,_

_Skyhold is very quiet without you. I think the cook is pleased that her cheese and mint thief has vanished, though she still can’t remember who it was who took them. It’s a good thing Sera hasn’t managed to rope Cole into any of her schemes!_

_The new training ring you had Ser Morris build is already being put to good use. It’s much better for doing one-to-one combat training. The only thing missing is Varric starting a betting pool on winners and losers. If he offers you odds, don’t bet against him. I know several people in Kirkwall who regret doing just that._

_I wish you could be here with me, but if you truly are needed in the Plains take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting for you when you come home._

_Love  
Your Cullen_

……………………………………………

_My Cullen,_

_This place gets worse by the day. At least the Dalish we met have been gracious enough. It took a while to bring them round, but even before they understood our intentions they were polite. The Orlesians do nothing but whinge._

_Solas may appear at Skyhold before us. He lost a dear friend out here and has gone to grieve privately. Don’t question him too much on it, I’ll tell all when I get back. Just try and be kind to him if he appears._

_I promised myself I wouldn’t let this get too depressing. What can I tell you to make you smile? Oh, I know! Cole gave Dorian a little wooden duck. And apologised that it didn’t have wheels! You have to try and get that story out of him when we come back. He won’t tell me anything!_

_You see the official reports. We are making progress here. Slow progress, but it is coming. Hopefully we can leave here soon._

_I miss you,  
Saibra_

Cullen could sense the false cheerfulness. Saibra was miserable and he knew it. Damn it, but she must have somehow known from his last letter that he wasn’t doing as well as she would have liked either. He hadn’t written enough about himself. 

But what was there to say? He spent his days drilling recruits and trying to catch up with the mountain of paperwork that always filled his desk. He spent his nights in a haze of nightmares and dreams of her. More and more, the longer she was away, he saw her as she had been in Haven’s chantry. Before she had left him to face Corypheus. When she had said goodbye and they had both been convinced they would never see each other again.

He had to do better. He had to let her think there was nothing to worry about here. She had enough on her plate.

_My Saibra_

_Solas hasn’t appeared here yet, but I promise we will take care of him if and when he does. Leliana wanted to send out scouts looking for him, but Josephine and I convinced her that it would be better if he came back willingly and in his own time._

_Dorian wanted a little wooden duck with wheels? I wonder if Blackwall could be convinced to make one? If he did, I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to persuade Sera to do something with it that would embarrass Dorian. I’d pay good coin for it to happen next time we play chess. He’s getting too good at cheating and I need to level the playing field._

_You are doing well. Josephine is starting to get some response to all her manoeuvrings with the Orlesian nobility. We may well get through to the Empress soon._

_Be safe, and know that I miss you  
Cullen_

…………………………………………

_C,_

_I’m done. I’ve cleared the rifts, I’ve helped the Orlesians, I’ve helped the Dalish. And now we’ve seen a dragon, Bull is desperate to have at it. But we are all tired and demoralised. We need a break. And I need to see you. There are still things to be done, but we could do with more Inquisition back up._

_I’m coming home, beloved,_

_S_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I hated the Exalted Plains.


	16. Caring Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two short chapters in one day? Don't say I'm not good to you ;)

_Almost there_ , Saibra thought to herself. Almost home. The four days they had been on the road had started to lift the spirits of her companions. Finally, most of the bickering had stopped and now they were on the final stretch.

She jumped a little when Cole rode up beside her. Maker's breath, his mount was as silent as he was. “He’s watching for you.” The pale boy told her.

“Huh? I need a little more to go on, Cole.” By now most of the group (except Vivienne who refused to speak to “the Inquisitor’s pet demon” and Sera who would put her hands over her ears every time he tried to speak to her) had got the hang of translating Cole-speak, but sometimes he was still a bit too vague for Saibra’s liking.

“Can’t wait in the War Room. Too confined. No distractions. Pointed glances. Stay in my office. Paperwork by the window. See her coming. Can’t rest until I see she’s safe.” Cole cocked his head. “Why does he not like Leliana and Josephine looking at him?”

Saibra smiled. “They tease him. It makes him uncomfortable.”

Cole smiled in vague understanding, and went off to try and tell another knock knock joke to Varric. Dorian took his place. “Did I hear our delightful Commander worries about you? I’ll admit, he doesn’t seem the type to wait patiently at home while his lady love is out fighting in the wars.”

“The feeling’s mutual. I know he doesn’t eat or sleep enough when I’m not there to make him. And he… he doesn’t always keep well.”

Dorian’s voice was low, for Saibra’s ears only. “I’m not blind. I know the signs of lyrium withdrawal well enough. And I can see you worrying whenever you get a letter that’s too short.”

“Maybe if we could write more often when I’m away, but ravens can only fly so fast, even Baron Plucky. The Plains isn’t even that far and it took more than a week between sending a letter and getting a reply.”

“I may have some thoughts on that,” Dorian mused. “Give me some time.”

They crested the final rise and Skyhold loomed up before them. Saibra gazed up at the tower – his tower – and saw the sun glinting off a well-polished breastplate through the narrow window. “Cole!” The spirit was at her side almost before she called him. “Can you reach him? Talk to him?” Cole nodded. “Then tell him to stop peering out that arrow slit and come out on the battlements where I can see him.” 

As always, she didn’t see him go. Bull snagged the reigns of Cole’s now riderless horse. “I wish you wouldn’t encourage that, Boss,” he rumbled at her.

“Not sorry,” she smiled as the door onto the battlements opened and the Cullen stepped out. He was smiling that crooked smile he saved for her. “Totally worth it.”

…………………………………………

He met her in the courtyard, carefully formal in his public greeting and offering to escort her to the War Room. Saibra graciously accepted, letting Blackwall take Solace’s reigns.

They used the privacy of Josephine’s office for a proper greeting. The Ambassador was already waiting in the War Room with Leliana. Once they finally managed to separate, breathless and smiling, Saibra searched his face. “The pain is bad today, isn’t it?” she asked sadly.

Cullen shook his head. “It’s just a headache. I can endure.”

“You can, but you _shouldn’t_ ,” Saibra insisted. “From what you and Leliana wrote, we’re going to be spending a lot of this afternoon discussing Orlesian nonsense. You hate that and it’ll make the headache worse. Let me help you. Please.”

She was pleading Cullen realised. She had just come back from a horrible trip. She must be so weary and she still had to meet with the Council before she could rest and eat. But she was still begging him to let her help. What had he done to deserve her? He kissed her forehead and nodded, closing his eyes.

Her bare hands were wonderfully cool on his hot temples. His lyrium whispered happily as she gently allowed that cool to spread around the pain, dulling and easing it. He had allowed other mages to heal him before, and he had always hated it. While the pain of his wounds had dulled, the lyrium in his blood spat and stung. Maybe it was that there was less lyrium to feel it. Maybe she was a more skilled healer than he had ever encountered before. But somehow he knew that the real reason her healing felt better to him was that they were connected on some deeper level. 

It wasn’t until he felt the ease of tension and discomfort that he realised she had moved on from his headache. Her hands were still on his temples, but he could feel her magic soothing the painful joints of his knees and hips, unknotting the muscles on his back, rigid from fighting the pain for too many days. It was slow and gentle healing, nuanced, with no forced rush of magic to fix him and move onto the next person as quickly as possible. He knew she was setting a pace where he could tell her to stop anytime.

It felt like a lifetime before he felt Saibra pull her magic back into herself and remove her fingers from his forehead. Cullen opened his eyes in time to see her sway, catching her before she lost her balance. “I’m all right,” she tried to wave him away as he guided her to one of Josie’s armchairs. “I just always forget I shouldn’t do a healing like that on an empty stomach.”

Josephine appeared in the door then, obviously expecting to catch them in a lover’s tryst. “Inquisitor, are you all right?” The concern in her voice echoed his own.

Cullen shushed Saibra’s protests. “The Inquisitor is exhausted and she hasn’t eaten. If we must meet now, perhaps we could do it in here, where she can sit and eat while we talk.”

“Of course,” Josephine was already bustling out the room. “I’ll inform Leliana and send for some food.”

“Cullen, I’m fi-“ he cut her off with a chaste kiss.

“You insisted on taking care of me. Now let me take care of you.”


	17. Wicked Thoughts and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra sees a side of Cullen that he's hidden from her.

Halamshiral was as awful as Cullen had imagined it would be. His formal jacket was too tight, a painful reminder of the fact that he now spent more time behind a desk than in the field with a sword in his hand. And there were all these _people_ crowding him, cooing and flirting, refusing to leave him alone.

They had even ruined the few moments he had managed to snatch with Saibra. He knew she hated her uniform, would have preferred to wear a gown or a mage’s robe if she couldn’t be in her comfortable leathers, but to him she still outshone all the masked and painted ‘beauties’ of the Orlesian court. Maker bless her, she had seen how uncomfortable he was, tried to tease the tension out of him. And he had managed what he thought was a fairly smooth comeback – that he only wanted her attention. Then he had gone and spoiled it by refusing her a dance.

He wanted to make it up to her now, but he hadn’t been able to reach her. Between his admirers and hers someone had always gotten in the way. And now he couldn’t see her at all. 

“Cully!” Sera’s hissed whisper from the alcove he was passing drew his attention. He slipped in next to her. Josephine and Vivienne had done their best, but with her raggedly self-cut hair and permanent scowl in the presence of the “big britches” she still looked like a sullen child.

“What can I do for you, Sera?” He found himself easily irritated by the elf, but some of her antics did make him smile, and her aim with her bow was formidable. Added to that, the intelligence her Red Jenny group had brought, he no longer questioned why Saibra had brought her into the Inquisition. 

“You’re lookin’ for Inky, right? She’s out there,” Sera indicated one of the many balconies with a jerk of her head. “Better look in on her. She’s with that creepy witchy woman,” the elf shuddered in distaste.

“Thank you.” He moved off without looking at her again. If she had been anyone else, he would have given her shoulder a squeeze. But he knew Sera wouldn’t thank him for that. Morrigan passed him on in the doorway, having finished whatever she was saying to Saibra. He remembered her from Kinloch and hoped, without much real confidence, that she didn’t notice his sideways glance or the way he shied away from her. Just passing her made the lyrium nip and thrum uncomfortably in his blood. 

As always, just being near Saibra soothed the ache. It had been getting worse of late. He couldn’t explain why, but even Saibra’s comforting presence couldn’t completely remove the angry bubbling of the lyrium in his blood. The two weeks between her return from the Exalted Plains and their arrival in Halamshiral had been difficult. He hadn’t felt fully well since she had healed him the afternoon of their return. Of course, Saibra knew something was wrong, but he endured, telling her he was fine. He knew she knew he was lying, but she hated conflict, avoided it if she could. Cullen hated taking advantage of that. Maybe it would be easier now, with the Empress safe and the civil war over. Saibra had charmed the whole of the Winter Palace with her shy smile and luminous eyes.

Cullen leaned against the balustrade next to her. “Are you all right?”

“Things went according to plan for once. I couldn’t be happier. But I’m worn out. Tonight has been… very long.” He knew it wasn’t completely true. She hated the Game as much as he did, for all she had played it well, and she was worried for him.

Cullen put an arm around her shoulder, felt her relax into him. “This whole operation had me on edge,” he confided, praying that truly was the reason he’d felt so awful lately. “I’m glad it’s over. I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.” She smiled at him, laid her small hand over his large one, but her look was still far away, eyes still worried. An idea presented itself, making him smile as he pulled his arm from around her, turning her with it to face him. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask,” he swept her a low formal bow. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Saibra smiled the first genuine smile he thought he’d seen from her all night as she placed her hand in the one he offered. “Of course. I thought you didn’t dance?”

“For you,” he replied, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll try.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and for that one shining moment, he could truly believe them to just be Saibra and Cullen. Just a man and a woman, enjoying a dance at a party.

…………………………………………

If Cullen and Saibra had expected to have a few days’ respite when they returned to Skyhold, they were in for a rude awakening. Almost before they had dismounted from their horses, they Captain Rylen ambushed them with a report from the Blades of Hessarian. Red Templars had appeared on the Storm Coast and were bedding into an old port. 

A few hours of planning and Leliana’s agents were on their way to infiltrate the base. Saibra and her team would follow the next day. There was no time for Saibra and Cullen even to spend an evening together. And the next morning, when he wasn’t there to see her off, and wasn’t even in his office to say a private goodbye, she could feel something painful and frightening beginning to knot in her stomach.

As she made her way back into the yard, Bull caught her eye. “Cullen just dragged Cassandra into the armoury, Boss,” he muttered in her ear. “Sounds like you might need to break it up.”

Saibra nodded, unable to speak for the tightening knot in her stomach. She couldn’t make out the words they were flinging at each other as she got closer, but it didn’t sound fun. Cullen’s raised voice cut off as she opened the door. 

He looked dreadful. He was paler than she’d ever seen him, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. His eyes were sunken and hollow-looking, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t meet her eye, ducking his head as he gently pushed past her. “Forgive me,” he muttered, his voice sounding hoarse and deadened. 

The anger he felt might have gone, but Cassandra still looked furious. She crossed her arms. “And people say _I’m_ stubborn,” she called to his back. “This is ridiculous!” The door slammed behind the Commander and the Seeker slumped, looking every bit as tired as Cullen. “He has told you that he’s no longer taking lyrium?”

“It’s very important to him.” Saibra’s reply was both confirmation and a question of her own. What was happening to Cullen – to the man she loved – frightened her.

“Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It’s not necessary.” The Seeker was pacing now. _She’s as worried for him as I am_ , Saibra realised. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes.

“Why didn’t he come to me?” Didn’t Cullen know she would do anything for him? She loved him. He _had_ to know that.

Cassandra looked sadly at Saibra. Over the months of travelling and fighting together, the mage and the warrior had become friends. “He wouldn’t want to… risk your disappointment.” Cassandra finished gently. Saibra was grateful that if Cassandra had to learn tact she had chosen today. Maybe it was the romantic in her, but it felt like she had been championing Saibra’s relationship with Cullen from the beginning. Saibra knew it was thanks to Cassandra she didn’t have to endure too much teasing from her team.

“What do I do?” It wasn’t the first time since she had been made Inquisitor that Saibra had asked Cassandra’s advice, but this was the most important. Cassandra had known Cullen longer than she had and she knew they shared history of warriors under the Chantry.

“If anyone can change his mind, it’s you,” Cassandra admitted. “Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash.” The last words were harsh, spat out. Saibra had never heard her friend sound so quietly furious. “Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself – and anyone who would follow suit – that it’s possible. He _can_ do this.” 

Saibra nodded. “Wait for me in the courtyard with the others. I’ll let you know if we’re postponing the mission. If we… if I’m needed here, can you lead this mission instead?”

“Of course, Inquisitor. What shall I…?” she waved indecisively towards the courtyard, and the party gathering there.

“Nothing yet,” Saibra was emphatic. “I’ll think of something if I need to.”

…………………………………………

Saibra wished she’d knocked as she ducked to avoid the lyrium kit that shattered against the door she’d just opened. 

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen sounded horrified and out of breath. His eyes were wild, frightened, and filled with remorse. “I didn’t hear you enter. I-“ He took a deep breath and looked away, hiding his face in the shadows. “Forgive me,” he asked again, and her heart broke for him.

“Cullen-“ she began, but stopped. She had no idea what was the best thing to do, to say. He wasn’t a man to ask for help. Or a man to accept pity.

He began to try and make his way round the desk. Saibra couldn’t make out what he said before his legs buckled and he had to clutch at the desk to keep from falling. Saibra started towards him, and felt her heart crack a little more when he waved her away. She was a trained healer. The hardest thing for her had always been to stand back when someone was in pain. Her instructors had tried to teach her that when mental pain accompanied the physical, you had to let the patient come to you, not the other way round. It wasn’t a lesson she had ever done very well at. And when the person in pain was the person she loved more than any other… It took every ounce of strength she had to keep an arm’s length from him. “I never meant for this to interfere,” Cullen muttered, looking at the ground.

Saibra kept her distance, but crouched so she was looking up at him, needing to see his face, if she couldn’t touch him. “Are you going to be all right.”

“Yes…” the response was instant, but couldn’t hold when his eyes met hers. He looked quickly away again before admitting, “I don’t know.” She listened in anguish as he recited the horrors he had suffered at Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall. Leliana had told her all she knew – and the spymistress knew a lot – so it was nothing she hadn’t already heard, had time to process. But knowing wasn’t the same as hearing it from him. Leli had been so dispassionate, almost clinical, like a healer listing symptoms when she discussed the Commander’s torture at the hands of demons summoned by blood mages. Cullen’s voice was raw, agonised, painful to listen to. “Can you see why I want nothing to do with that life?” He asked at last, slumping against the arrow slit that served for a window.

“Of course I can!” Saibra began to move forward again, desperate to offer comfort if he would not allow her to relieve his pain. 

“Don’t,” he roared, and Saibra was ashamed to feel herself flinch. “You should be questioning what I’ve done!” He began to pace, ranting again. Saibra found it had to follow, hearing the pain of his tormented mind more than the actual words. She jumped in fright when he punched his bookcase, shattering a shelf and sending books flying. “I should be taking it,” he whispered and she could tell he was as close to tears as she was. 

“This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition.” Saibra hoped he couldn’t hear the quiver in her lip as she spoke behind him. Maker, she had never tried so hard to be strong for someone else. He had always been strong for her. She had known something wasn’t right since before the trip to Orlais. Why hadn’t she seen this coming? What kind of sweetheart was she? “Is this what _you_ want?” At least she was sure she knew the answer to that one. 

He sighed, and Saibra took a step forward. When he didn’t object, she took another, and another, until she was right in front of him. She took his hands in her own, uncurling the clenched, gloved fingers, massaging them gently between her own, desperately fighting the urge to pour out her healing magic. Cullen rested his forehead against hers. “No,” he whispered at last. “I don’t want to take it… but if I cannot endure this…”

Saibra released one of his hands, tilted his chin up until he was looking her in the eyes. “You can,” she said simply. She held his gaze, as he searched her eyes for something.

He must have seen what he was looking for because he finally let out a deep breath. “All right.”

“Do you need me to stay?” She asked. “There’s nothing specifically that requires me in the Storm Coast. Cassandra can lead the team as well as me.”

“No.” Cullen’s reply was instant, and she fought not to show how much the rejection stung. “No,” he repeated more gently. “I need some time. I need to work past this.”

“Alright,” she took a deep breath to steady herself. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back in a week. When I come back, we’ll talk. But please, Cullen, I’m a healer so you have to trust me when I tell you this: I know it’s hard. Probably the hardest battle you’ve ever fought. But it will get easier. There will always be times when it’s more difficult and you can’t see a way out, but there will also be times when it’s better. And I intend to see you through both.”

She fled the tower then, without looking back or waiting for an answer. She stopped in the ruined tower attached to the tavern, gasping deep breaths, trying to stem the flow of tears. When she finally made it down to her team in the courtyard, she was the Inquisitor again. Cassandra was holding Solace for her and she swung up without a word to anyone, a shake of her head and a muttered “Later,” her only reply to the Seeker’s questioning eyebrow. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and her Commander’s haunted eyes as possible.


	18. The Pain That You Feel You Only Can Heal By Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Saibra deal with the fallout from his lyrium withdrawal

The journey that first day had been abnormally quiet and subdued. Everyone knew something was going on with the Commander, and that Cassandra and Saibra both knew about it. It was also clear that neither of them was willing to talk about it. Even Cole, when he had approached Saibra and quietly tried to soothe her had been gently told that there was nothing he could do and she’d rather be left alone. So they rode mostly in silence. 

After an awkwardly quiet meal, Saibra had sent the rest of the team to their tents, saying she wanted an early start to make up for their delayed departure that morning, and telling the other mages she would set the wards on the camp. That wasn’t so unusual – her companions were used to her making the excuse of staying up to set the wards to write to Cullen – but to do it on the first night they were away? When Dorian opened his mouth to say something, Cassandra shook her head at him, and the rest of the group had to be content that the Seeker would deal with the quietly distressed Inquisitor.

When Saibra made it back to the fire after setting their wards, Cassandra was waiting for her. “I must know if you managed to make Cullen see sense or if I will be looking for a replacement commander when we return to Skyhold.”

“He’ll stay,” Saibra sighed. “I convinced him he could stay off the lyrium and still command our forces.” She poked the fire with a stick, desperate to avoid Cassandra’s searching gaze.

“Then I must ask why you do not seem more pleased. Surely this is good news?”

“It was a difficult conversation… you know Cullen’s history?”

“He does not speak of it, but Leliana told me some of it when we were deliberating his recruitment,” Cassandra admitted. “He knows that I know, though he has never discussed it with me. Were you… unaware of it.”

“No,” Saibra shook her head, still staring into the fire. “He had Leliana tell me after Redcliffe. He wanted me to know why my alliance with the mages had put him so on edge. But hearing about it from Leliana and hearing it from Cullen are two different things.”

“He… he spoke of it?” Cassandra was dumfounded. Everyone knew what had happened at Kirkwall – they had Varric to thank for that. But there had been no books written about what happened in the Ferelden circle. There were so few survivors or witnesses, and all of them had been closed-mouthed. When he thought someone needed to know, Cullen always sent them elsewhere.

“Vividly… and he won’t let me help him!” Saibra knew Cassandra could see the silent tears running down her face, but she didn’t care anymore. She had been holding this in, holding herself together ever since she had first broken up the argument between Cassandra and Cullen. “All I have ever done, my whole life, is help people. Being a healer is not just my job, it’s who I am! I can’t stop the withdrawal, but would it have been so bad if he had come to me and asked me to help with the physical pain? He can barely stand! If he let me help with the pain, he would have more strength to deal with the mental battles. But I can’t help him unless he asks!”

“Cullen is a warrior. And he has been fighting these memories alone for more than a decade. I do not disagree that it would be better if he asked for help when he needed it, but it is not in his nature. He will learn, in time.” Cassandra clapped Saibra gently on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, Inquisitor. I’m sure things will seem better in the morning.”

…………………………………………

It was a beautiful clear day when they rode through the gates of Skyhold. Leliana greeted them with a smile. “Welcome home, Inquisitor. I hope you had a pleasant journey?”

“Just glad to be back, Leliana.” Saibra’s smile was equally warm as she slid from Solace’s back. “War room?”

“Not yet,” Leliana shook her head with a knowing smile. “The Commander has some… reports he’d like to go over with you first. He said he’d meet you in his office.”

Saibra felt her heart jump in her chest. A private reunion? Cullen really must want to make it up to her. “Thank you, Leliana. I’ll let you and Josie know when the Commander and I are ready.” Bull was already taking Solace’s reigns from her.

She took the steps up to the walls two at a time, eager to see her Cullen again. After dashing along the battlements, she stopped at the door to his tower to straighten her clothes and tidy her hair. She wanted to look her best for him.

When she opened the door she felt her heart drop into her stomach. The room, always dim thanks to the narrow slits it had for windows, was almost completely dark. “Cullen?” she asked timidly.

A shape moved near the bookcase, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realised it was Cullen. His back was to her, slightly hunched looking under the fur collar of the cloak he never seemed to take off. “I’m sorry, Saibra.” His voice was a harsh rasp, like someone denied water for too many hours. “I was weak when you needed me to be strong. The Inquisition needed me to be strong.”

“Cullen?” she asked again, her voice little more than a tentative whisper as she took a step towards him. Something was terribly wrong.

“It’s all right now,” the dry rattle of his breath made her flinch. “I am all right. I have found a way to make myself strong. Stronger than ever.” He turned, stepping into the narrow beam of light cast by one of the arrow slits.

He wasn’t Cullen. Not her Cullen anyway. His eyes shone red with corrupted lyrium. Glowing scarlet shards, stuck out of the collar of his breastplate and the knuckles on the hand wrapped around his sword pommel. Saibra opened her mouth and screamed.

She was still screaming when she woke up in her tent, halfway to the Storm Coast. She gasped for air, drawing in harsh, ragged breaths that were half sobs.

“Duchess? Are you all right?” She could hear the rustling as Varric exited the tent next to hers.

“Fine… I’m fine, Varric.” Her voice shook and she knew she didn’t sound anything close to fine.

“Are you sure?” The dwarf’s voice was coming closer. “You were screaming pretty loudly there?” 

“I said I’m fine!” she roared. “Go away!”

She pulled a pillow over her head. There were more voices outside now. If her screaming hadn’t already woken the rest of the camp, bellowing at poor Varric had done the trick. Hot tears stung her eyes. She already felt guilty about yelling at him. What had he done except show concern for a friend? But she couldn’t face anyone right now, couldn’t explain to them what her greatest fear had been since she and Dorian had experienced that horrific future in Redcliffe. 

The muffled voices she could hear through the pillow were beginning to fade. Vaguely, she could hear Cassandra ordering everyone back to bed. Then, without the least movement of her tent flap, there was a presence in her room. She sat bolt upright just in time to see Cole’s pale face before his cool hands covered her eyes. “Forget.”

“Cole…” the protest was weak, she was already succumbing to sleep. 

“Just until morning. Forget. Sleep.”

…………………………………………

Saibra could barely breathe with tension by the time they made it back to Skyhold. A week, with no words exchanged between them, when she had left him so broken, had been a torment of its own. 

Her nightmares had continued to be bad enough to wake her team. They had begun to take turns pitching their tents next to hers, so that no one else suffered more than one night of broken sleep in a row. Cole had stopped even the pretence of sleeping, instead stationing himself on a stool just outside her tent flap, so he could rush in and attempt to soothe her the moment they started.

So, she nearly collapsed in relief when they rode onto the bridge and she could see Cullen on the battlements. He was standing tall, not hunched over as she had last seen him, or warped with red lyrium the way he had been in her nightmares. He smiled down at her and gave a small wave.

Cassandra rode up next to her. “I’ll debrief Josephine and Leliana,” the Seeker assured her quietly. “You are needed elsewhere.” Saibra could only nod, her throat too tight to speak. He looked so much better, but there was still a part of her terrified that he had given into his cravings. That the strength and health he was projecting was a false image projected by the lyrium.

But when she got up to the battlements, there was no trace of lyrium. His eyes were clear, his skin a healthy pink instead of the sickly white it had been when she last saw him, and his hands no longer shook. He smiled at her. “I wanted to thank you… when you came to see me…” His voice was the clear rumble she had fallen in love with, not the harsh rasp of pain that had been haunting her dreams. And he was stuttering again, as nervous as the first time they had kissed. She felt herself smile for the first time since their dance at the Winter Palace. “If there’s anything…” And there. Rubbing his neck, the way he always did when he was nervous. She had missed that. “This sounded much better in my head,” Cullen admitted with a wry shake of his head.

“I trust you’re feeling better?” She wanted to rush into his arms, kiss him until she forgot all about the last week. But she had to be sure.

“I… yes.” She broke, hurrying into his arms, letting him bury his face in her hair, kiss away the fear and nightmares.

“Is it always that bad?” She asked into the fur of his shoulders. 

“The pain… comes and goes,” he admitted. “I should not have pushed myself so far that day. I should have asked for help.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right, now.” Saibra admitted.

“I am.” Cullen’s voice was confident. He sounded almost at peace. “You once told me that talking was as healing as a potion. I never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden’s Circle. I was… not myself after that. I’m not proud of the man it made me. The way I saw mages…” His voice faltered again, and Saibra clung tighter. “I’m not sure I would have cared about you, and the thought of that sickens me.” He took a deep, shaky breath, and kissed her hair again, before tilting her face so he could meet her eyes. “Now I’ve told you, I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It’s not a cure, but it’s a start.”

“For what it’s worth,” Saibra smiled up at him, “I like who you are now. I’m in love with the man you are now.”

“Even after…?” The hope and fear in his eyes tore through her soul.

“Cullen,” she pushed herself away from him, so he could see all of her. “I love you. You’ve done nothing to change that. I don’t think you ever could.”

“What about you?” Cullen asked, searching her eyes. “How are you holding up?”

Saibra had always found it hard to admit to her fear, but if she was asking him to be honest with her… “I’m terrified,” she admitted. “So many people depend on me. Corypheus is still out there.”

Cullen took her hand, stroking it gently with his large, powerful fingers. “We’ve made great strides,” he promised her. “Do not doubt yourself – or the Inquisition – just yet.” 

Saibra reached up to touch his face, stroking her thumb over the scar on his lip. He kissed the thumb then, taking her face between his hands, kissed her. It was soft, sweet and filled with so much need. Saibra sighed, parting her lips to allow his tongue to enter. She was home.

…………………………………………

“Ah, just the Inquisitor I was hoping to see!” Dorian’s voice boomed across the library as she emerged from the stairwell by Vivienne’s balcony. Saibra flushed and picked her way across to the nook the Tevinter had claimed for his own. “Have the lovebirds made up yet?” he asked as she flopped down into an armchair.

“We hadn’t exactly had a falling out, Dorian,” she muttered. Cullen might be feeling better, but that didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it, even with Dorian. “Have you forgiven Bull for giving us all a glimpse of your underthings?” It had been the one thing that made her laugh while they were on the Storm Coast. Red Templars had triggered the wards on their camp one morning just before dawn and Bull had come racing out of his tent missing his eyepatch and with Dorian’s smalls somehow attached to his belt.

Dorian glared daggers at her. “We agreed never to speak of that. Promise you won’t bring it up again or I won’t give you your present.”

“Present?” Saibra was confused. “What for?”

“That,” declared Dorian, pulling her to her feet, “would be telling. I hate it when people spoil their surprises.” He grabbed a box the size of a small book from a nearby shelf and began dragging her towards the stairs. 

“Dorian, where are we going?” she laughed, trotting to keep up with her friend’s long strides. 

“To see the Commander. It’s his present, too.” 

The trip to Cullen’s tower wasn’t long, going through the rotunda, and Saibra was grateful since Dorian refused to answer any of the questions she tossed at him. When Dorian would have barged into the office, Saibra held him back and knocked, waiting for Cullen’s permission to enter.

“Saibra,” he beamed. “And Dorian. Have you finally convinced him to bow to my abilities as a chess player?” That made Saibra giggle in earnest. It delighted her that her beau and her best friend got on so well. 

“That I will never concede,” Dorian snorted. He placed the box on Cullen’s desk, waited until they were both watching and opened it with a flourish. Inside lay two small silverite cuffs, each about as wide as Saibra’s thumb, no thicker than a coin, and engraved with runes. Given the size difference, clearly there was one each for her and Cullen.

“Dorian, these are beautiful, but why-“

“Shh,” he cut her off, lifting the smaller of the two bracelets from the box. Without asking he took her right hand and snapped it over her wrist. Something flickered at the corner of Saibra’s eye and she gaped at the cuff still in the box, its runes now glowing silver. 

Dorian let go of her and held the open box out to Cullen. The Commander carefully lifted the glowing band and examined it. “Well, put it on!” Dorian huffed impatiently. Cullen frowned at the mage, but did as he was told. The band around Saibra’s wrist flared silver.

“Dagna and I have spent weeks on these. They are linked to one another and to you. As long as the other is being worn and can feel a pulse, yours will glow,” Dorian puffed up proudly. “Not an easy piece of magic but we managed. Hopefully these will stop you worrying about each other when we’re out in the field.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Cullen murmured, unable to take his eyes off the band fastened tightly around his wrist. “Thank you.”

“Now, now, stop it. You’ll ruin the silk,” Dorian teased as a teary Saibra threw her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a tight squeeze before releasing him to take Cullen’s hand.

“You’re welcome, my lady,” he gave Saibra his most courtly bow. “And you,” he continued, turning to Cullen, “can thank me by taking good care of my best friend. I would hate to have to start throwing fireballs at you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who gets the reference in the title gets a cookie!


	19. Letters From Crestwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra can storm a keep and kill dragons. Why is moving a relationship forward so much harder?

_My Commander,_

_The weather here is awful. It’s actually wetter than the Storm Coast. Everyone is miserable again, though Solas and Bull playing chess with a mental chess board is rather interesting. Did you know the Qunari use Tamasarans instead of Mages, Arishoks instead of Queens, and Ben-Hassrath instead of knights? They’re both better players than me so maybe I’ll learn something we can use in our next match._

_It’s not in my official report, but ask our Nightingale if she can look into Crestwood’s mayor? Quietly. I really don’t want it to be official. I’ve just got this horrible feeling that he’s hiding something and we’re going to need all the information we can when it comes to light._

_I miss you, but I like being able to see that you’re well whenever I look at my wrist._

_Please look after yourself,  
S _

Saibra stared hard at the sheet before her, considering striking the section about the mayor. It was just suspicions. She had nothing to go on that would truly merit Leliana’s precious resources. But he was so resistant to draining the lake. Hadn’t even seemed pleased to have some back up at last. No, she’d leave it in. The fact she was relaying it in a private letter to Cullen would tell Leliana whether it should be a priority or not.

She quickly sealed the letter before she could change her mind and took it out to the raven cages. Usually she would have given it to a scout to send but now Leliana, fed up with Baron Plucky constantly being used to ferry love notes, had given Cullen a raven of his own. White Star, named for the single white feather on his chest, nipped her affectionately as she attached the letter. He would fly straight to Cullen’s office, cutting out the scouts that manned the rookery and appeasing Leliana’s desire for discretion. Crestwood wasn’t so far. He’d have the letter in a couple of days.

…………………………………………

Cullen sighed at the letter. When would Saibra learn to trust her instincts? She was a good judge of character and if she thought this mayor seemed suspicious, it was definitely worth looking into and he knew Leliana would agree.

He called over one of the runners that were never too far from his office. “Please ask Sister Leliana to come and see me at her convenience,” he ordered. “I have something of a… sensitive nature she needs to see.”

The runner saluted and was away. It would probably be some time before Leliana could join him, enough for him to make his reply to Saibra.

_Sweetheart,_

_I can read between the lines of your letters by now. And I know you have set people to look after me. Josephine is dragging me to dinner in the hall every evening and Leliana always comes to order me to bed if I still have a candle burning after midnight. I don’t sleep as well when you are away, but knowing you are safe gives me great comfort. Especially when I know you are trying to take a fort with a ridiculously small force._

_After you left, I found a cake with a note from Sera in my office. She said it was a peace offering. Is she actually being kind or is it a trap? I never can tell with her._

_Thank Dorian again. Knowing you were going to be storming a keep would have had me sick with worry now if I wasn’t able to look at my wrist and know you were safe._

_Stay safe for me,  
C_

…………………………………………

_Beloved,_

_At least we know my suspicions weren’t unfounded. There’s a chantry sister here who’s organising services for the bodies they we’re beginning to uncover. The village is angry, but I think the work of clearing Old Crestwood will be good for them. I suppose I’ll be the one to judge him when we find him._

_The sun has finally come out here. Now it has I can see why you love Ferelden so much. The place is beautiful and now you can tell it’s summer._

_I have no idea what Sera’s plan with the cake is. I doubt she’d tell me if I asked. Try offering a slice to Jim and see what happens._

_I suppose it’s too much to ask, but given that you have the bracelet, can you try not to worry that I have to deal with the Northern Hunter here? I know you hate me hunting dragons, but it’s menacing the village and I can’t leave it. They’ve suffered enough._

_Missing you, always,  
S_

…………………………………………

_Love,_

_Yes, it’s too much to ask that I not worry. But I’m not foolish enough to try and stop you. Even if I thought you weren’t too stubborn to listen, I don’t have the right to keep you from doing what needs to be done. It is one of those times when we must be Commander and Inquisitor, not Cullen and Saibra._

_In saying that, I do have some business to take care of in Ferelden, near Redcliffe. I was hoping you might accompany me. If you wish to go? I can meet you at Caer Bronach and we can travel on from there. I would enjoy being able to spend some time alone with you._

_Maker watch over us  
Cullen_

“Ooh, the Commander wants to spend some time alone with you,” Dorian purred, reading over Saibra’s shoulder. “Should we take most of your clothes back to Skyhold with us? It doesn’t sound like you’ll be needing them.”

“No!” Saibra could feel herself turning a horrible shade of red, as she looked around to see if anyone else was listening. “It’s… it’s not like that. Honestly,” she added, at Dorian’s sceptical look.

“You don’t have to be coy, my dear. We all know that you spend every night at Skyhold together.”

“I know. But we… we just haven’t… we just talk and then sleep.” Saibra wished the ground would open her up and swallow her. Dorian was a dear friend, but this was just the worst kind of embarrassing.

Dorian gaped at her. “You mean you have spent all those nights together – alone – and you haven’t touched him. More to the point he hasn’t touched you.” Saibra nodded glumly in confirmation, unable to meet his gaze. “Saibra, my dear, you danced around each other for long enough before you finally gave into what we all know you felt. Clearly, the man adores you. So what’s the problem?”

“We agreed to take it slow. He’s a gentleman, and I... you know how different our Circles are to yours. It’s all quick fumbles in cupboards and dark corners. I… never met anyone worth that risk. So I’ve never…”

“But you want to?” He’d moved from teasing to concerned. Saibra nodded, feeling distinctly teary.

“More than anything. But I don’t know how to tell him…”

“And he’s too chivalrous to make the first move,” Dorian sighed putting his arm around her. “He’ll never start something without your consent. So you have to. You don’t have to say anything. Just touch him in the right places, kiss him in the right way at the right time. Guide him.”

“Are you missing the part where I have precisely no clue what I’m doing? Beyond knowing which bit goes where. Even I’m not that sheltered.” Shame and embarrassment had made her sharp. Dorian knew her well enough by now to take her sarcasm for what it was.

“Well, we’ll just have to borrow one or two of Cassandra’s books. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, will Cassandra mind?


	20. Templar Igniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen finally gets Saibra alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 36 hours ago I completed a 26.2 mile overnight charity walk. Right now, I think I feel like Saibra did when she came off the mountain after Haven (Maker's breath, why do my toenails hurt - they don't even have nerves!) so it feels somehow fitting that I'm posting the chapter I'm most nervous about today. 
> 
> Please be kind.

Cassandra did mind, very much, when she discovered that two of the books she always carried when travelling had vanished. Saibra had felt slightly guilty when she blamed first Sera, who the Seeker assumed would be the one to play a trick on her, and then Cole, who had once been caught reading her letters, and finally Varric, who knew exactly what kind of salacious books she enjoyed – since he had written her favourites.

It was a good thing Saibra was a quick reader and she managed to replace the books in such a way that Cassandra assumed she had misplaced them. The rest of the team, at least, had enjoyed Cassandra’s shame-faced public apology to the three rogues. But her heart still fluttered nervously when they arrived back at Caer Bronach, horses dragging the dragon’s head, to see Cullen waiting in the bailey for them.

Always proper in public, it wasn’t until the next morning when they had set out together to “oversee some issues with the Redcliffe watch towers” that Saibra had a chance to speak to Cullen alone.

“So, where are we really going? Is something wrong?” she asked, almost as soon as they were out of sight of the fort.

“What? No! I really do need to see to the watchtowers. The man I had in command of them was killed in a raid on a bandit camp. I don’t know the other men there well, so I need to meet with them before deciding whether to promote someone from within the unit or transfer a more experienced man from elsewhere.” He looked at her nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “After that… there’s something nearby I would like to show you, but I would rather explain there. If you still wish to go?”

“Of course,” she smiled shyly. “I just… I didn’t know if you had made up some excuse to get me alone for a few nights.” Saibra could feel herself flushing as she stared determinedly at a spot between Solace’s ears.

“I… uh… I can’t deny… I was pleased to be able to have the opportunity… I mean… I always enjoy spending time with you… alone.” Cullen cursed the fact that, without trying, Saibra could turn him into a tongue-tied idiot. And that his fair colouring meant the whole world knew whenever he was embarrassed.

…………………………………………

They made good time that day, spending the night at the Crossroads camp. While Cullen met with his men in the morning, Saibra travelled to Dennet’s farm to visit his wife and daughter. After a brief lunch they were again mounted and away. They were travelling south-east towards the Frostbacks, and Saibra was completely clueless as to what could be taking them in that direction. Cullen was quietly nervous, saying little. 

Finally, a little after dusk, he halted his large grey stallion, Thunder, in a cluster of trees. Saibra slid off Solace, tethered him next to Thunder and followed Cullen through the trees. “Where are we?” she asked just before they broke through the trees. She gasped as she took in the scene before them. A stretch of fragrant grass led to a beautiful small lake, moonlight shimmering on the rippling water. A haze rose where the warm night air hit the cool lakewater.

Cullen took Saibra’s hand, leading her to a small dock near some fishing boats. “You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that, if only for a moment. I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.”

Saibra looked around, letting her thumb rub small circles onto the back of his hand. “Did you come here a lot?”

“I loved my siblings, but they were very loud,” Cullen confessed with a smile. “I would come here to clear my head.”

“You were happy here?” She had never seen him seem so truly calm, at peace. The nerves he had been so poorly trying to hide all afternoon were gone.

“I was,” he admitted, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. Today, she was simply Saibra, so she had left it in loose chestnut waves, only pinning the front locks back to keep it out her eyes for riding. She knew he loved it when she left her hair down. “I still am.”

Saibra looked away, shy again. If she really was going to make her move tonight, she needed to know he wouldn’t reject her. She turned to face the water. “You’ve seen the worst mages have to offer. How can you not see that in me?”

“I don’t.” Cullen’s voice was startled, and he took a step to close the gap she had created between them. “If I’ve given you reason to doubt…” his voice trailed off and he rubbed his hands over the back of his neck. “Of course I have.” He didn’t move away, choosing instead to turn and look out over the water with her, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. “Whatever I fear of magic, I see none of that in you.

She looked up at him, sideways through the same loose curl Cullen had just brushed away and took his hand, smiling. That brought him to look at her again. He pulled his hand away and she felt a pang of rejection before he plunged it into the pouch he always wore on his belt. He pulled something out, worrying it with a thumb, and she recognised a nervous habit for what it was. 

“The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this. It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.” He unfolded his hand to show Saibra a small, silver coin. Andraste’s face was only just visible, after years of worrying and rubbing. “Templars are not supposed to carry such things,” he confessed with a smile. “Our faith should see us through.”

Saibra grinned at him in delight, blue eyes sparkling. “ _You_ broke the Order’s rules? I’m shocked.”

“This was the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn’t give me.” He took her hand again, pressing the coin into it. “Humour me.” The seriousness of his face sobered her instantly. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” Saibra promised.

“Good,” Cullen pulled her to him. “I know it’s foolish, but… I’m glad.”

He kissed her, soft and gentle at first, but need and passion increasing as their tongues met in the familiar dance. Saibra took her moment, tentatively sliding one hand from his back to his bum. Cullen’s response was gratifying, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss more. 

She reached up now, taking the hand that had been cupping her face, and moving it to her breast. It was her pleased gasp as she felt his calloused thumb stroke across her erect nipple that broke the kiss. 

“Saibra,” Culled whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “Are you… do you want…” 

“Please. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop…” 

He lifted her then, strong arms cradling her like she weighed nothing and carried her back to the grass. Laying her down on her back he continued to kiss her, one hand cradling her head to protect it from the hard ground, the other back on her breast, making her shudder and gasp as she reached up to undo the buckles holding his breastplate in place. 

His hand left her breast to clutch at her long fingers. “Are you sure-“

“Armour _off_ ,” Saibra ordered and Cullen – ever the soldier – had moved to help her undo the buckles before his brains had caught up with what he was doing. There was a fire building in her somewhere below her stomach and she _needed_ him to be touching her. She groaned in frustration when Cullen climbed off her, but moved to help when she realised he was only trying to remove his greaves, his large hands made clumsy with his own need and desire. 

As soon as they were off, Cullen was on her again, as hungry for this as she was. They pulled and fumbled at buckles, laces and clips, desperate to touch, to feel skin against skin. Then Cullen froze as he finally pulled her shirt open. 

He was staring at the thin new scar that arched over her right breast and she realised that, often as she’d seen his scars – a starburst on his left shoulder, another that snaked down his right side from his lowest rib to his hip, and of course the one that cut through his top lip and made her heart flutter whenever he smiled – he had never seen hers. She had mentioned the one on the back of her shoulder, which she suspected Corypheus had made two, but never the others. The circle around her right calf from a pride demon’s whip. The burn scar on the back of her left arm from the dragon in the Hinterlands. Or the slice across her chest she had got from a red Templar on the Storm Coast.

She moved to cover it with her hand, barely suppressing her whimper of shame at the sheer ugliness of it when he stopped her, catching her hand to his chest. Ducking his head, he trailed kisses along the scar’s length, and the gentle flutter of his lips on the raw, tender skin made her shudder. She had never understood Bull’s insistence that there could be pleasure in pain before.

“You are so beautiful,” Cullen whispered. And when he touched her again, she stopped thinking anything at all.

…………………………………………

“Leave me!” Cullen jerked awake with the demon’s taunting in his ears, to see Saibra’s wide eyes large with worry as she leaned over him. He smiled weakly at her, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face wishing he could brush away her worry so easily.

“Bad dream?” her tone was light, but he heard the faint tremble in her voice. 

He sighed and dropped his head back onto the bedroll, wishing he hadn’t scared her, wanting to lie and tell her it was nothing. But lying to her and pretending there was nothing wrong hadn’t exactly gone well for him before. He had promised to do better, to let her help him. “They always are. Without lyrium, they’re worse. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Her smile lit up the chilly, pre-dawn air. “You can let me worry about you a little.” Her thumb stroked the curve of his cheek. “Let me deal with that headache?”

He smiled and kissed her palm. “You shouldn’t waste your strength. How did you know I had one?”

“I always wake with one after a nightmare. And helping you is never a waste. Please?”

Cullen nodded and smiled. “All right.” He sighed as a sweet coolness played around her fingertips on his face. At the back of his mind, he registered that the pleasant tingling of his lyrium wasn’t as strong as it had been when she had healed him before.

When she finished, she laid a soft kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes and held her close when she went to sit up again. “You are… I have never felt anything like this.”

“I love you,” she whispered, breath warm on his face. “You know that, right?”

“I love you, too,” he replied with a kiss. “Come back to bed, love. We still have a few hours left until dawn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SuzySue: I promised you smut. I hope this doesn't disappoint?


	21. The Long Walk Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go as planned for Saibra and Cullen, not even a simple road trip

Cullen smiled as he listened to Saibra singing under her breath as she dressed. It brought back the memory of the time he had overheard Sera complaining that being around Saibra when she was happy was like travelling “with a fucking songbird”.

She had been singing on and off ever since he woke her for an entirely inadequate breakfast of bread and cheese. They had both been shy again, in the light of the morning, and had bathed separately in the small lake. But he had heard her singing as she packed up their camp while he washed, and as she bathed while he tended to Solace and Thunder, and now as she dressed she was still singing. He vaguely recognised the tune as one of Maryden’s from the tavern and it surprised him as a song about the Breach could never be a happy one. He was just in time to hear her voice become husky in the low notes as she sang the line _“Templar igniting, fire inside me”_. He choked and gaped at her. Saibra was watching him over her shoulder, through the mane of her hair. She smiled, then giggled, losing the melody of the song as she began to laugh heartily.

“I thought I’d have to wait all morning for you to notice what I was doing,” she chuckled, strolling forward to take his hand.

“You… you did that on purpose? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not what Maryden intended when she wrote that.” Cullen was still gaping as Saibra leaned forward on tiptoes to give him a soft kiss.

Forehead to forehead she smiled at him, a genuine happy beam that wrinkled the skin around her eyes. “Beloved, you have no idea appealing you are when you’re flustered.” She captured his lips again, before turning to mount Solace. “Besides,” she added, her cheeky grin flashing at him as he mounted Thunder and drew up next to her, “usually it’s me being mortified by some of the things Sera, Varric or Bull come out with. Trust me, if you ever see Sera with a peach, run.”

…………………………………………

They made good time, riding along the edge of the Frostbacks to reach the path that Cullen’s men had carefully constructed up to Skyhold. As they rode, the previous day’s awkward silence had been replaced with companionable chat and laughter. With his discovery that morning of her naughty streak, Cullen had realised that there was so much more to Saibra than he had ever realised, and he wanted to know every part of it. And she was happy to oblige if he would answer her questions in turn.

“So why Rift magic?” He asked as the trail started getting steeper. “The trainer Josephine brought to Skyhold couldn’t even remember her name, and from what I heard she was the only person who had made an attempt to make it a proper magical branch and survive.” He had never told her how scared he had been that she would lose her mind in the attempt to study this new, obscure branch of magic.

“I wish you wouldn’t worry,” Saibra smiled, correctly interpreting the small frown that flitted across his face. “It just seemed obvious. If I would have made a good knight enchanter, we would have found that out at Ostwick. And talented Necromancers don’t make good healers. That’s why Dorian can’t be trusted to heal anything more serious than a shaving cut on his own. As a natural healer, I’d have been terrible at it. If I was going to have to train as something other than a healer I wanted to be good enough at it to be useful in the field. And this,” she made a vague gesture with her left hand, “would seem to give me a natural advantage. I’ll admit I learned more from Solas than-“

She cut off with a cry of surprise as Solace pitched forward, causing her to slide clumsily off him. She yelled again, in pain as her right foot hit the ground awkwardly. “Vishante kaffas!”

Cullen was off Thunder and by her side in a second. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Fuck, that hurt,” she hissed as he helped lower her to the ground, “but it’s only twisted. Damned weak ankle.” Her head whipped round, hair flying. “Is Solace all right?”

Cullen shared her concern for the chestnut. Solace had always been a steady, reliable mount. Cullen went to the horse, who hadn’t moved since he had dislodged his mistress. His eye went at once to the nasty horizontal cut just below his right fetlock, the flesh around the cut already swelling. His eyes scanned the ground and found the culprit. “He stepped in a nug hole,” Cullen announced. “I can bandage him up and he’ll be able to walk back to Skyhold, but he won’t be able to carry any weight. How are you?”

He moved back to where she sat propped up against a rock. She had already managed to get her boot off and was massaging her own rapidly swelling ankle. “I can heal it. But I should eat something. Healing myself always takes more out of me. Do we have anything left in the packs?”

“Of course,” Cullen was up immediately. They had placed all their packs on Thunder who was used to carrying far more weight in armour than gentle, reliable Solace. The warhorse had stepped away from the path to graze and it wasn’t until Cullen was returning past Solace again that he felt the lyrium tingle that meant she was using her magic. And it cut off just as rapidly. She must have been using it since he turned away and he hadn’t felt it – his range for detecting magic was decreasing. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Yes, it meant the lyrium was clearing from his bloodstream, but it also meant he was losing that wonderful feeling he got when she used her magic around him.

Saibra smiled at him as he crouched next to her. She was paler than she had been a moment ago and her hands were trembling slightly as she took the proffered apples. “Thank you. These are perfect.”

Cullen kissed the crown of her head. “Rest. I’ll take care of Solace.”

She watched him as he expertly poulticed, then bandaged her horse’s forelimb. “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, curious. A Templar knight surely wouldn’t be expected to tend to his own horse’s injuries.

Cullen twisted his head to look at her, the scar on his lip making his smile temptingly crooked. “Farmer’s son, remember. I was doing this long before I picked up a sword.” He paused slightly unsure. “You curse in Tevene?” 

That made Saibra laugh. “Dorian taught me. People get very upset if they hear the Herald of Andraste take Her name in vain. Cassandra tried to teach me some Nevarran, but she got cross if I got the pronunciation wrong. Dorian says that when you curse in Tevene the pronunciation matters less than the feeling.” Her smile twisted into that cheeky grin that made him want to take her there on the mountainside. “Would you have preferred ‘Andraste’s flaming knickers’?”

Cullen choked back a laugh. “Probably not. Isn’t that one of Varric’s favourites?” Saibra nodded and reached for his hand. Cullen pulled her up, a steadying arm around her waist as she tested the ankle. “Can you walk on it? Solace won’t be able to carry anything, but you could ride Thunder while I lead him?”

“No, walking will strengthen the healing. We just need to take our time. We’re only a few miles away.” Saibra ducked her head then and peered up at him through dark lashes, something Cullen noticed she only did when she was shy. “I can’t complain about any more time I get alone with you.”

He lifted her ungloved right hand to his lips. “As my lady wishes.”

…………………………………………

“A few miles” were actually more like eight and dark was falling as they began on the last mile. Saibra had begun to flag and her ankle ache. She was just about to ask Cullen if they could take a break when he paused, listening. Saibra listened too.

There. Hoof beats, a lot of them, coming down the mountain at speed. Cullen used the leading reigns to pull Solace and Thunder to the side of the path before drawing his sword and stepping in front of her. Saibra unhooked her staff from where it was tethered to Thunder’s side and planted her feet, lightning playing around her fingertips.

When the lead rider crested the hill in front of them Cullen sighed in relief, sheathing his sword. Krem pulled his horse up in front of them, but the rest of the Chargers carried on down the mountain. “Your Worship, Commander, it’s good to see you.”

“What’s going on, Krem?” Saibra had no time for pleasantries as a vice squeezed around her heart. The mercenary group worked for the Inquisition now, but they answered directly to her and the Iron Bull. She knew of no planned mission, and since they hadn’t all stopped they hadn’t been sent out to find the now very late Commander and Inquisitor. And to be leaving Skyhold so late in the day… whatever it was that had sent them thundering down the Frostbacks was too urgent to wait for morning.

Bull’s second wouldn’t meet her eye. “It’s not my place to say, Your Worship. Sister Nightingale has all the details. She’s waiting for you at Skyhold.” He glanced down the road at the dust cloud the other Chargers had left, obviously keen to be after them.

“Go. Maker be with you.” Cullen took command. As Krem gave him a grateful smile and spurred his horse on, Cullen grabbed Solace’s leading reign and tied it to a nearby tree. He would be fine there until they could send someone back for him. Saibra, reading his plan as if it was her own, had already mounted Thunder and he swung up behind her, spurring the warhorse to a gallop.

Josephine and Leliana were waiting for them in the courtyard. The spymaster was cool as always, but the ambassador was twisting her fingers, pacing the way Cullen normally did in the War Room when they discussed a difficult decision. 

Saibra was off Thunder almost before Cullen had reigned him in. “What’s going on? Where are the Chargers going?”

“Inquisitor…” Josephine was clearly struggling for words.

Leliana took the plunge. “We had word from Ostwick. There has been an attempt made on the life of Lady Vastra Trevelyan Harrington.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	22. Sister, Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra was used to being in danger, she had been ever since she fell out of the Fade. But how does she cope when her family is threatened?

Cullen watched the colour drain from Saibra’s face and was already moving to catch her as her knees buckled. Her eyes were wide, and he had never seen her look so afraid. “Is she-“

“Lady Vastra is safe, as are her daughters.” Josephine jumped in.

“I have had scouts in the area for some time in the event of something like this occurring,” Leliana added. “They identified the Venatori agents and acted in time to deal with the threat.”

Cullen felt Saibra shudder in his arms. She would never have considered the possibility that her family would be in danger because of her position. “And the Chargers?” he prompted.

“Iron Bull allowed me to send them to escort the lady and her children to Skyhold. We believed that you would agree they will be safer here and that you would trust the Chargers with them more than a group you didn’t know.”

Saibra nodded silently. Her breathing was still ragged and she was trembling all over. He scooped her into his arms. “Clear a path,” he ordered Josephine. “We need to get her inside.” The Antivan nodded and hurried ahead of him to clear the great hall. “Send someone to get Solace off the mountain,” he told Leliana. “He’s lame. They’ll find him tethered about a mile down the path. If anyone asks, the Inquisitor has injured her ankle.” The Spymistress simply nodded.

Cullen carried her all the way to her room, both grateful and terrified of how light and fragile she felt in his arms. Josephine had carried on ahead of him, opening doors and shooing away curious onlookers. He looked back at her as he sat Saibra down on the loveseat. “We need something warm. Tea, perhaps. And I want to see that report from Ostwick.” 

He didn’t wait to see if she would do as he asked before crouching down in front of Saibra and taking both her hands in his. They were like ice. “Saibra.” He kept his voice low and gentle, “Saibra, look at me, sweetheart.” She lifted her head slowly to meet his eyes, and he quickly had to suppress his own shiver at how frightened they looked. “It’s all right, Saibra. Vastra is all right. She’s safe. Catalina and Marie are safe. They are well and safe and on their way here. The Chargers will look after them. Krem, Stitches, Rocky and the rest won’t let any harm come to them. They’re safe. Can you say that for me? They’re safe.”

“They’re safe,” her voice was little more than a whisper. 

“Again.”

“They’re safe.” 

“Again.” 

“They’re safe.” Her voice cracked and she allowed herself to fall into his arms, sobbing. 

…………………………………………

For the next four days, the Inquisitor haunted the halls of Skyhold, pacing and anxious. Leliana and Josephine tried distracting her with work, but her concentration was shot. Cullen encouraged her to work from his office, instead of isolated alone in her rooms, installing a small couch so she could be comfortable. Frequently, he would look up to see Saibra staring into space and mouthing “They’re safe, they’re safe” over and over again.

Her biggest comfort seemed to have been Cole. The spirit had moved from his usual hiding place in the attic of the Herald’s Rest to the Rookery. Leliana complained that he unsettled her birds, but Saibra’s smile when he promised to bring her any news as soon as it arrived meant she limited her complaints to Cullen and Josie’s ears. Cole could move from one place to another instantly, and would always know where Saibra was without being told. It meant she didn’t have to worry about people knowing where she was every hour of the day.

Cullen had taken her up to the roof of the mage’s tower to get some fresh air in relative privacy when Cole finally appeared, holding out a sealed missive to Saibra. “Written a day ago. Be quick. The Nightingale is angry I took it before she could see.”

Cullen was behind her when Saibra sagged into his arms, suddenly drained of tension, when she saw her name on the paper. “That’s her handwriting,” she sighed. “I’d recognise it anywhere.” Her hands trembled as she broke the seal, holding it so as to allow Cullen to read over her shoulder.

_Little Sister,_

_I hear we have your seneschal to thank for our deliverance. I am grateful to her and her men for protecting the girls and me. You must introduce us when we arrive so I can thank her myself. I understand that the group who arrived this morning are some of your most trusted men and women. I’ll admit, they are an unusual group, but they have been very accommodating and kind to the girls._

_I know you, Saibra. You will be blaming yourself. But you are not responsible for the choices others make, only your own actions. Even in Ostwick we hear regularly of the good works you and the Inquisition are doing. I am proud to call you sister._

_Do not worry about us. We have passage on a ship across the Waking Sea that departs tomorrow. Your Lieutenant Cremisius informs me that, travelling slowly enough to accommodate the children, it will take about a week to reach you at Skyhold. Kitty and Marie have been asking about you for weeks and they are very excited to be coming to visit you in your ‘castle’. I look forward to seeing for myself that you are well, and to meeting this Commander Cullen you write so much about._

_Your sister,  
Vastra _

Saibra’s lashes were wet with unshed tears when she looked up from her letter at last. “Thank you, Cole,” she whispered. “You helped.”

It was the only complement the spirit ever wanted to hear. The pale boy beamed at her and Cullen. 

“Cole?” Cullen’s voice was soft. He knew his Commander’s voice had startled and upset the spirit in the past. “Was this the only letter or was there one for Leliana?” 

“No. She had one from Krem. I didn’t take that.”

“Then go and tell her you are sorry for taking this one from her, but it is a private letter from the Lady Vastra to her sister. If she tries to argue, tell her I have seen it and I told you it was alright.” Leliana would still be annoyed, but he was better equipped to deal with the Orlesian’s ire than either Saibra or a Spirit of Compassion. 

“Yes, Cullen.” Cole beamed and then cocked his head. “Relief. She can be calm again. But nervous. A farmer’s son should not aspire to a noble lady. Broken, battered, fallen man. Sweet, gentle, precious lady. He can never be worthy.”

“Cole…” Cullen felt his hand rise to rub the back of his neck.

“She loves you. You are not broken, Cullen. Uldred marked you but didn’t make you. The centre never changed. Kept safe like a coin in your pocket. You stayed you.”

The boy was gone before Cullen could growl at him. Saibra looked up at him. “I didn’t realise my family’s title worried you so? I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I know you have no patience with nobility.”

“I don’t think of it much,” Cullen sighed, looking out across the mountains. “But you were born to a noble family. I have no title outside the Inquisition. Does it… bother you? Will it bother your family?”

“No. If you care for me that’s all that matters. Vastra is the one who will inherit my father’s title. Even if she wasn’t the eldest, mages can’t inherit. She won’t care as long as you make me happy. And my father can jump into the Waking Sea if he thinks he has a say in who I love. I haven’t heard a word from him since the day I was taken to the Circle.” Saibra shut her mouth suddenly, as if she’d said too much. Cullen put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. “I wasn’t trying to put you on the spot.”

“Do I?” Cullen asked nervously. “Make you happy?”

“Of course!” Saibra leaned back, looking up at him in disbelief. 

Cullen pulled her back into him and kissed her hair. “If I seem unsure, it’s because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted _anyone_ in my life,” he whispered into the soft chestnut waves. “I wasn’t expecting that to change. Until I met you.”

…………………………………………

“Vastra!”

Saibra’s delighted shriek pierced through Cullen’s fog of concentration. He hadn’t looked up from his reports since Saibra had brought him lunch three hours ago, buzzing with the excitement that Leliana’s scouts had spotted her sister’s party heading up the mountain. Well, if she was here now, he supposed he had better go and meet the woman he had heard so much about.

He made it onto the walkway between his tower and the main keep in time to see Saibra fling herself into the arms of a woman stepping out of a small travelling wagon. 

The two woman didn’t look much like sisters. Vastra had about two inches in height over Saibra, and had the womanly curves bards liked to sing of, where the Inquisitor was lean from battle and hardship. While both pale, he could see Vastra’s skin was peppered with freckles. Her eyes were a pale grey, though he didn’t think anyone could match the rich bright sapphire of Saibra’s eyes. As the two women held each other chestnut waves cascaded into a straight strawberry curtain.

He carried on, meeting Solas in the rotunda and sending him to fetch Leliana and Josephine. Solas had never been very good at taking orders, but for once he didn’t question the Commander, making his way calmly into the keep as Cullen left it to descend the main stairs. He made it outside to see Krem helping two small girls out of the wagon. While their aunt’s hair was a rich chestnut brown and their mother’s a pale strawberry, both children had hair the colour of flames. They were each clutching a stuffed nug that Cullen recognised as Krem’s handiwork, and he wondered vaguely if he should give into Bull’s pestering and lend the Qunari a trebuchet to fire some of them off the mountain.

The older girl, lean like Saibra, saw who was with her mother and broke into a run crying “Auntie Sai! Auntie Sai!” 

She hurled herself into Saibra’s arms, and his love picked up the girl swinging her around. “Marie Bee! There’s my precious girl!”

The younger girl, only three he remembered, ran to her mother and hid her skirts, sucking on one of her nug’s ears. He reached the bottom of the steps as Saibra crouched to talk to the nervous tot and receive a shy hug. It had been eight months since she had last seen her aunt, a long time in the world of a child that young, leaving for the Conclave with her father. Who had never come back.

Marie was staring around in fascination with everything when she spotted him approaching. Tugging at her aunt’s sleeve she asked in what was obviously meant to be a whisper, “Who’s that golden man?”

Saibra looked up, smiling. “He’s my pet lion. I’ll introduce you. Commander, may I present my sister, Lady Vastra Harrington, and her daughters Lady Marie and Lady Catalina.” Vastra gave a gracious curtsy, managing at the same time to nudge a slightly sloppier one out of her eldest daughter and not to be overbalanced by the younger hiding behind her, clutching the skirts of her dress. “Sister, may I present Commander Cullen Rutherford of Honnleath, leader of the Inquisition’s armies.”

Cullen bowed to each of them in turn, gratified at least to get what he thought was a reasonably warm smile from the lady and a giggle from her eldest daughter. “Are you really a lion, Ser?” Marie asked. 

_Blunt as Iron Bull and curious as Cole,_ Cullen thought with a smile to himself. He crouched down to speak to the girl at her level. “Some people call me the Lion of Ferelden. But you can call me Uncle Cully.”

That earned another giggle from the child and a beam of delight from Saibra.

As he and Saibra escorted them on a tour of Skyhold, introducing them to the other Council members and to Saibra’s inner circle, Cullen saw a side to Saibra he’d never seen before. Marie chatted away, and Saibra was endlessly patient answering the girl’s questions, and carrying her when the six-year-old tired. She would make an incredible mother someday.

Saibra, meanwhile, was watching Vastra watch her beloved. When he was pulled to one side by Rylen to discuss the orders for the Redcliffe watchtower’s new captain, she was both surprised and not to hear her sister remark wryly, “I suppose the only time you see him out of that armour is in the bedroom?”

“Vastra!” Saibra looked round to check her nieces were out of earshot, but Kitty seemed to have taken to Krem, who was lifting her up to stroke Bull’s horns and Marie was questioning Varric closely on why being born on the surface meant he couldn’t live in Orzammar.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Vastra carried on, her mother’s awareness having already told her that her daughters were neither listening in nor causing trouble, “he seems a good man. But I just wonder if when you finish this battle he’ll be able to settle down with you, or if he’ll be onto the next and leave you behind?”

“The Inquisition isn’t just going to defeat Corypheus and disappear. None of us can say what will happen then.”

Vastra eyed her suspiciously. “But you want to settle down and have a family? I’ve seen you look at the girls. I know you want that for yourself.”

Saibra sank onto the bench behind them, drawing her sister down with her. “We haven’t discussed it,” Vastra opened her mouth, but Saibra answered before her sister could ask the question, “because it isn’t that easy. We don’t know who will be the next Divine or what she intends to do about the Circles of Magi. If she restores them as they were, then I won’t be allowed to marry and ‘settle down’, much less have children. I can’t make that commitment, to myself or to Cullen, until I know it won’t be taken away from us.”

Vastra took her hand, “Oh, Skint, you always did think so little of yourself. Take a look around you. This is all yours to hold and to lead. You are more powerful than you know. You think that if you declared you were going to marry someone and have children that anyone would be able to stop you? Or take it away from you later? That won’t happen. And if anyone tried, I think your lion would fight to his last breath to keep you.”

Cullen looked up from the report he and Rylen were going over and smiled at her. Saibra smiled back at him, then at her sister. “Cullen and I will discuss it when the time is right. Now, I have delayed leaving long enough, so we have two days to catch up on the last eight months, and then I am off to the Western Approaches. So start talking, sister dearest.”


	23. Something in the Way He Moves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra enjoys putting on a show for her commander.

Andraste’s tits the floor was cold! At least, Saibra thought wryly, she was fully awake now. No chance of feeling sleepy when your feet are convinced that they’re standing on a block of ice. Not for the first time, she wished Solas had found them a stronghold somewhere other than the top of an icy mountain.

She didn’t even bother trying to find a flint. Cullen hated her “squandering” her magic, but it was far too cold to waste time searching for something she knew she’d never find. As the lantern flared, she saw Cullen shift in the bed. Peeking through the curtain of her hair, she could see the gleam of amber eyes watching her from under pale lashes. Well that was a reversal. Usually she would be sleepily watching him as he dressed. _He doesn’t know I know he’s awake. I could enjoy this._

Well, if she was going to let him watch, she should get warm. The pitcher of mulled wine from last night was sitting on the edge of the desk and there was just enough for one more cup. She poured it and used just a spark of magic to warm it. The glow of warmth from the wine travelled down her throat and into her belly, spreading all the way to her frozen feet.

She moved slowly, picking up one item at a time to place in the pack open on the chair of the desk. She’d set it there last night to prepare. Not that she’d managed to get much in there before Cullen swept her off to the bed, and she was glad it was hers because she didn’t think they’d have made it up the ladder from his office to the loft bedroom and she didn’t think his desk would be the most comfortable place to sleep. She had felt his need and she needed him so badly too. The rest of the world could wait.

She kept sneaking peeks at him through the ripples of her hair. The sheet had twisted round his hips, surprisingly lean on such a muscular man. She couldn’t see them in the dull light of the lamp, but she knew every scar from his trim waist to his broad shoulders to the one that cut across his upper lip and made her melt whenever he smiled. She had traced them all with soft fingers and gentle lips.

When her pack was full, she couldn’t hold off on dressing any longer. She kept it slow, one item of clothing at a time, grateful for the many layers of leather, nugskin and ring velvet in her battlemage armour. She took her time over her hair, trying not to be caught watching him watch her. She knew how fascinated he was with the way she twisted and pulled it into the high bun she favoured during the day. She tried to use her hair as the line between personal and professional: when it was up they were Inquisitor and Commander fighting an impossible war, loose and they were simply lovers taking comfort from a world gone mad in each other’s arms.

Dressed, she decided it was time to let him make his presence known. With her back to him, she snapped on her wrist band. Her heart twisted when it didn’t glow, even knowing neither of them bothered to wear the bands overnight when they were both at Skyhold. Though breaking the seal on the band was a good way for one of them to signal to the other that they needed extracting from some interminable meeting. She turned her head to see his band flashing to life reflected in the window.

“I hate it when I put this on and it doesn’t glow.”

She knew without turning that he was out of bed at her words and Dorian and Dagna’s carefully carved runes sparkled into life at her wrist. Then his arms were round her and she relaxed into his hold. Now he was the one standing naked on the cold stone floor, but she could still feel the heat of his chest through the layers on her back.

“It feels silly to wear it when I can see you’re safe.” His nose was in her hair and she could feel his warm breath tickling the back of her neck. “But say the word and I swear I’ll never take it off.”

She twisted in his arms, so she could look up at him, snaking her arms around his waist. “No. No need. Just kiss me.”

They only had a few minutes, before she needed to meet the others in the courtyard. But this moment was the one she’d carry with her to Western Approaches, to keep her warm in the cold desert nights. The one that would bring her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Saibra's version of my drabble [Something in the Way She Moves Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6475042). I'd always considered doing a version of it from her POV, so when I got to this point in the story, I couldn't resist :)


	24. Inferences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Saibra's friends question her on the way to the Western Approaches, Cullen answers questions at Skyhold.

“So that’s your family, Duchess? Nice people.” Saibra had been singing again and she was sure Varric was only talking to her because of Sera’s muttered threats of putting an arrow into “the birdie”. She knew it annoyed the elf, but she couldn’t help it. Vastra, Marie and Kitty were safe at Skyhold, and things between her and Cullen were so good. Even the early start and knowing they were leaving for several weeks in the Western Approaches couldn’t dampen her good mood.

“I can’t speak for the rest of them, but Vastra and the girls are. I’m sorry if Marie annoyed you with all her questions. She’d never met a dwarf before and you completely charmed her. She loved your stories.”

“It’s fine,” Varric waved her away with a smile. “She’s a sweet kid. Nosy, but sweet. Curly, on the other hand…” he trailed off, but the twinkle in his eye prevented her from truly worrying.

“I’m sure the Commander wouldn’t want you thinking of him as ‘sweet’.”

“Oh, he was worried about you while you were worrying about your family. That was sweet. But ever since you got word they were safe with the Chargers he’s been insufferably smug. Almost as if he’d found some hidden treasure.” The sideways glance and wink he gave her made Saibra flush. “Anyway you might want to tell him to watch his back. I think Leliana might shiv him if he keeps walking around looking so… cocky.”

Saibra knew she must be a terrible shade of scarlet right now. But enough time with Varric, Bull, Sera and Dorian had taught her to give as good as she got. And being a mage gave her some special advantages. “Tell my spymistress that if anything happens to _my_ Commander on her watch, she might find that her precious shoe collection meets a… fiery end.” She didn’t even have to look at the tiny ball of flame she casually rolled between her fingers, the way she’d seen Varric roll a coin while he was busy with his ledgers. It was a show-off’s move, and Cullen would have hated to see her use her magic on something like that. But it was worth it to see Varric’s jaw drop.

The rogue laughed, shaking his head with grudging admiration. “I don’t think so, Duchess. You can give Leliana _that_ message yourself!” He spurred his pony forward to join Cassandra, who glared back at Saibra as if she had sent Varric specially to annoy the Seeker.

“I take it you put those books to good use?” Dorian’s voice on her other side made her jump.

“Yes,” Saibra flushed again.

“And…” she was sure she could see his moustache twitching as she squirmed.

“And what? I don’t need to hear the gory details of what you and Bull do in your tent. You do not need to hear about me and Cullen.”

Dorian laughed. “Ah, yes, but you hear anyway.” He turned to call over his shoulder, where Bull was mediating an argument between Sera and Solas. “That lummox has no sense of discretion.”

Bull grinned at them and called back, “Three times last night!”

“Brute!” Dorian returned. He shook his head. “If the sex wasn’t great there’s no way I’d put up with that animal.”

“Nonsense,” Saibra smiled. “I’ve heard you call him Amatus. I know enough Tevene to know what that means. Though you could tell me what Kadan means. Cullen and I have been trying to puzzle that out all week and neither of us knows enough Qunlat to guess.”

“Close enough to Amatus to make no difference. Do apologise to Cullen for us. I was sure we had blinded the poor man.” Saibra wasn’t sure if Dorian looked more shame-faced or smug.

“Yes, well,” she tried hard to keep the amusement out of her voice. “I wouldn’t have thought that an abandoned, ruined tower that you _know_ he and the scouts walk through on a regular basis was the most comfortable place for a lover’s tryst.”

“Speaks the woman whose lover has a hole in his bedroom roof!” _Is this what having a brother feels like,_ Saibra wondered. Until she was eight, it had just been her and Vastra. And while she had made friends at the Circle in Ostwick, she had mostly been with other girls. Ostwick had been fairly strict on gender segregation before you faced your harrowing. She had been able to spend more time with the men once she had passed that, but her shyness had held her back. And six months later the Circle fell. “Anyway,” Dorian continued, “the threat of discovery is half the fun.”

“Apologising for surprising Cullen, Kadan?” Iron Bull asked, joining them. “I suppose one of us should.”

Saibra looked back at Sera. Solas had veered off to the side to talk to Cole so the elf girl was alone, sulkily shredding a leaf she had stripped from a scrubby tree. “Is Sera alright? Solas hasn’t been goading her, has he?”

“Nothing worse than the usual with those two. She hates being thought of as an elf, he despises all other elves but wants her to take more interest in her heritage. She misses Blackwall.”

“Now _that_ is a strange friendship,” Dorian muttered, sneaking a look back at Sera himself. Saibra couldn’t help but agree. Generally, she was fond of Blackwall, but except with Sera, he always seemed so serious. Cullen was serious, but that seriousness was tempered by a deep faith and belief in the goodness of people. Blackwall came across as a hardened cynic. She had gotten used to it, over time, but at first she had been disconcerted to hear Sera and Blackwall roaring together with laughter at the back of the group as they travelled.

“Not so strange, when you think about it. They both hate the nobility and think the world should be a fairer place than it is.” Dorian and Saibra both gaped at him and he sighed, rolling his eye. “Ben-Hassrath, remember.” 

“Would it help if I explained why I had Blackwall stay at Skyhold?” Saibra asked. It slightly rubbed her up the wrong way to be two team members down, but she could hardly have brought Vivienne along when she was planning Bastien’s memorial and with what Stroud and Hawke had said about Corypheus’ ability to control Grey Wardens, it had seemed best to have him sit this one out. She still wasn’t sure about the wisdom of having Stroud join them, but he and Hawke had insisted.

“Nah, she understands. She just misses him. Varric should be able to tease her out of it but I’d let her have her sulk first. Now, tell us all about Honnleath.”

“How did you… never mind. Ben Hassrath, I get it. But for the last time, I’m not telling either of you anything.”

…………………………………………

“Enter.” The knock on his door had been unusually soft and Cullen looked up expecting Josephine, so it was a surprise when Marie pulled open the door and dragged her little sister in behind her.

“Hi Uncle Cully!”

“Hello Marie.” He got up from behind his desk and crouched next to the sofa Marie had hopped onto. Catalina scrambled up next to her sister. “Hello Catalina.” 

He didn’t think he would get a reply – the shy toddler hadn’t spoken to him yet – but at an elbow from her sister earned him an almost silent “Hi,” and Marie a glare that spoke of the hot temper Saibra promised him was there. 

“What can I do for you girls?” He had to admit, this was an interesting diversion from the paperwork involved in preparing for Rylen to take a troop out to man Griffon Wing Keep. Assuming Saibra and her team managed to take it from the Venatori. Out of habit, his gaze flicked from the children to the silverite band around his wrist, checking the still glowing runes.

“Mama’s praying for Papa in the chantry, Auntie Sai’s away and Krem’s training with Warden Blackwall. We were bored of playing in the garden, so I thought we could come and see what you were doing.” That listing of all the people the girls knew at Skyhold worried him. When they had been brought to Skyhold for their safety, no one had taken into account the lack of companions for two small children.

“Boring war stuff,” he admitted, an idea forming. “Your Aunt Saibra told me you can write?” Marie nodded. “I’ll be sending her a raven later. Why don’t you write her a note and I’ll send it with mine?” 

It was the first time he’d seen the confident child uncertain. “Mama said we’re not to ‘interfere with important Inquisition business’.” It was a passible imitation of her mother.

“You won’t be,” he answered standing to collect some parchment, a portable writing desk similar to the one Josie always carried and a quill and ink. “I’m not writing to her about Inquisition business. I was going to tell her how well you and Catalina are doing, but I’m sure your Aunt would like to hear it from you.”

“You can call her Kitty,” Marie tilted her head at her sister, who had wandered over to Cullen’s bookcase and was examining the books on the bottom shelf as seriously as if she understood their military titles. “Auntie Sai says Catalina is too long a name when she’s so little.” She looked up at him, then, curiously. “Are you going to marry Auntie Sai? Is that why I can call you Uncle Cully?”

Cullen was blindsided. He had expected questions about his intentions from Vastra, not from her daughter. “I… um…” his hand flew to the back of his neck, “I think that’s up to your Aunt. But I want to. One day.” It was hardly a sweeping declaration of his love, but it was the best he could come up with on the spot.

Marie sighed. “Mama says Auntie Sai wants to but she won’t. She called her a stubborn Bronto. Then she started saying stuff about circles being stupid and the Divine not mattering. Why would the Divine or circles stop Auntie Sai from marrying you? There isn’t a Divine now and all the circles are gone.”

Cullen and Saibra had never discussed what would they would do after the war. It would be foolish, he thought, to make any kind of commitment when they weren’t even sure they would survive the year. It didn’t stop him wanting to. Now he was hearing – from a child, of all people – why, even if he asked, Saibra would say no.

It was the mage thing again. He knew there were members of Saibra’s inner circle – even Cassandra – who thought their relationship had gone so slowly because of his fear of mages. But he didn’t see a mage. He just saw Saibra. If anyone had a problem with her being a mage it was Saibra herself. At least this time he could see what the problem was. Neither of them felt bound to the fraternisation rules that would have governed them if they’d met in a Circle while he was still a Templar, but if she thought they could be restored, that she could be forced to give him up…

He realised Marie was still waiting for an answer. He crouched back down to the child. “The Divine is the person who makes rules about what mages can and can’t do. Because there is no Divine, she doesn’t know what rules there might be in the future.”

“Why would anyone make a rule to stop Auntie Sai being happy?” _Curious as Cole, blunt as Bull,_ Cullen thought again.

“They wouldn’t,” he sighed. How were you supposed to explain adult concepts like prejudice to a child who was so clever and so innocent? “It wouldn’t be about your aunt, but if the next Divine makes rules about mages then she would have to obey them, even if they made her unhappy.”

“That’s _stupid_.” And Cullen found he couldn’t disagree.


	25. Resolute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations begin for Adamant while Saibra gets some advice from an unexpected source...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, over 1,000 hits! I just want to thank every one of you for reading, bookmarking, subscribing and leaving kudos and comments. It means the world to me that when I decided to poke my head out and begin to try writing, people have been so supportive. You guys are awesome.

“Ha!” 

Saibra’s surprised and amused exclamation made Cassandra look up from where she was writing a report for Leliana. They were sat in one of Griffon Wing Keep’s rooms that was being converted to an office for Rylen. Sometimes the Seeker wondered about the competence of the Venatori leadership, if a group of eight could take a Keep. “Is something the matter, Inquisitor?”

“Only if you think it’s a problem that I’m getting relationship advice from a six-year-old. Listen to this: _Dear Auntie Sai. Kitty is bored but I like Skyhold. There are lots of interesting people here. Uncle Cully is going to teach me to play chess. I think you should marry him and make him a real uncle. If there is no Divine to make a rule then you cannot be breaking one by marrying him. Mama says you are a stubborn Bronto if you don’t. Love Marie._ ”

Cassandra snorted. “Well you can’t fault her logic.” She paused and looked closely at her friend. “Has Cullen asked you to marry him? Is that what this is about?”

“What? No!” Saibra flushed, then sighed, wandering over to a window to look out over the desert. “Vastra thinks I should snap Cullen up in case he decides to move on after we defeat Corypheus. I think if I don’t know what rules the next Divine would put in place on mages marrying then I have no business making promises I might not be able to keep. But since Cullen hasn’t asked, the point is definitely moot. I should probably remind Vastra that her daughter is a sponge who repeats everything she overhears though. She’s worse than Cole.”

Cassandra stood to join the Inquisitor. Tentatively she laid a hand on Saibra’s arm. “You know Leliana and I are both being considered by the College of Clerics. Either of us could be Divine. Why haven’t you asked us what we would do?”

Saibra laughed. “I don’t need to ask Leli. She wants to tear everything down to force change. She’d allow mages to marry and have children with no qualms at all! But you…” she smiled sadly at Cassandra. “I know you want reform, you may or may not allow us to marry. Maybe I was afraid to ask in case you said no.” 

“I would not say no,” Cassandra replied softly. “One of the reasons mages rebelled was that the Chantry forgot that you were humans, with human needs. By refusing to allow you marriage, the right to have families of your own, we allowed the abuses and secret affairs to happen. Worse, children whose parents loved and wanted them were taken away and raised by the Chantry as orphans. If I am elected I will not make that mistake.”

“Thank you.” Saibra’s smile reached her eyes this time. “There’s still the possibility they’ll choose someone else. But you have made me feel better.” She shook it off, switching from Saibra to Inquisitor before Cassandra’s eyes. “Now, we need to plan an assault on Adamant.”

…………………………………………

Saibra had been delighted when Cullen and Leliana arrived along with the troops and equipment she had requested to help take the Warden fortress of Adamant from the Venatori. And he had brought his trebuchets.

“Adamant has stood since the Second Blight. Which means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment,” he had told her team in their makeshift War Room at Griffon Wing. “A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls.”

“But,” Leliana warned them, “Erimond may already be raising Corypheus his army of demons in the fortress.”

“Ugh, demons,” Bull muttered from where he was propped up against a wall. Dorian hushed him. 

“So, we breach the walls with the trebuchets,” Saibra nodded at Cullen, “but we may face demons inside as well as Grey Wardens convinced we are trying to stop them preventing future blights. Does that sum it up?”

“Exactly.” Leliana laid a series of plans on the table. “These are records of Adamant’s construction. These,” she indicated, laying down markers in several places, “are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle and prevent you from becoming overwhelmed.”

“It will be hard-fought, and bloody. There’s no way around it. We may not be able to defeat them outright,” Cullen warned.

“We don’t need to.” Saibra’s eyes were fixed on Leliana’s map. “If I can get to Warden-Commander Clarel I can either convince her she’s wrong or get Erimond to show his true colours. The Wardens won’t like it when they realise they’ve been tricked.”

Stroud and Hawke had been allowed to sit in on the meeting, the Warden and Champion replacing the still absent Vivienne and Blackwall. The Warden spoke up from the corner they had been hovering in. “I’m sure some of my brothers will be sympathetic to our cause. They cannot all believe Clarel’s madness.”

“If they’re the ones being sacrificed to summon the demons, some of the warriors may be willing to listen to reason, even if they won’t turn against Clarel directly.” Marion stepped forward. “But the mages will be slaves to Corypheus. We will have to fight them.”

Saibra’s eyes flicked from the Champion to Cullen. It couldn’t be easy for him, having such a potent reminder of the catastrophe at Kirkwall in the same room, but he seemed focused on the task at hand. “Our forces are ready. Give us the word, Inquisitor, and we march on Adamant.”

Saibra squared her shoulders. This was the part of the job she would never get used to. “Then we march.”


	26. Here Lies Your Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra once again finds herself in the Fade...

She remembered the dragon. And fear. And falling. Then a flash of green followed by darkness.

Saibra groaned as she got up, hearing replying groans from her companions. She looked around. Everything was off. The perspectives were wrong. She felt like she was standing on the ceiling. And Stroud was standing on a wall. “What happened?”

Stroud seemed the most composed. “You used your mark to open another rift, Inquisitor. I believe we are in the Fade.”

Cole popped up from behind a rock. He was shaking like a leaf, rocking and whimpering. She had never seen him so upset. “This is the Fade, but I’m stuck. I can’t… why can’t I…?” Varric grabbed the boy’s arm, gently hushing him. 

“I never thought I would find myself here physically…” Solas sounded awed as Cole was panicked. “Look, the Black City. Almost close enough to touch.”

“Right,” Varric sniped back. “You like it here. Isn’t that wonderful.”

“I can’t be here!” Cole cried. “Not like this, not like me!” He grabbed Saibra’s arm, the most forceful she’d ever seen him. “This place is _wrong_. I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I… I know it wasn’t like this.”

“The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks,” declared Dorian. Saibra glared at him. She’d never heard anyone speak so glibly about their Harrowing. “I met a marvellous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me.” He smiled back at her glare. “Yes, I hear your harrowings are slightly more strenuous. But the difference Cole speaks of could be that we are here physically. This is no one’s dream.”

Saibra took inventory of her other companions. Cassandra had her sword drawn, ready for battle. Sera was cursing and pacing, looking as frightened as Cole, which was unsurprising given how much she feared magic under normal circumstances. Bull was still, glaring at Dorian, but his grey skin seemed a touch paler than normal. He caught her looking. “I’ll fight whatever you give me, Boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town.”

“Is this really what it’s like when you dream?” Varric asked from where he was still trying to calm Cole. “How do you people ever sleep?”

“Where’s your glittery wrist bobble whatsit?” Sera asked suddenly, pointing at Saibra. She glanced down. Her silverite cuff was dark.

“Dorian!” In her horror, Saibra’s voice was nearly a shriek.

“It was never designed to work between worlds. How could I know we’d end up in the Fade?”

“If Cullen’s has gone dark then he thinks I’m dead!” She found it hard to fight her rising panic.

“All the more reason to get out of here quickly,” Hawke insisted. “I wouldn’t want to worry the Knight-Cap– sorry, Commander. In the real world, the rift producing the demons was in the main hall. Can we return to the world through there?”

Saibra took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm. Her people needed her to be calm. She pushed her fears for Cullen to the back of her mind. “It beats waiting around for demons to find us. Let’s go.”

…………………………………………

It had been hard, so hard, to get up and close the rift behind them. To give a speech to the remaining Grey Wardens about Stroud’s heroism and sacrifice. 

And then they just had to go and ask her to make a decision about their future. The last time she had been put on the spot like that she had brought the mages into the Inquisition as her allies. It had worked out well in the end, but it had also caused her first fight with Cullen. Still, they needed more people to fight Corypheus – banishing the Wardens from Orlais made no sense to her. They would join the Inquisition, too, and earn their redemption.

She waved off all her companions attempts to follow her as she moved away from the courtyard, arguing her need to be alone. Dorian was the most persistent, but he had allowed her to go in the end. As she passed under the archway, Hawke caught her arm. “If Cullen comes looking, will you see him?” 

Cullen had once told her that Marian Hawke was one of the most observant people he had ever met. She nodded. “Only him. I can’t deal with anyone else right now.”

When he found her, twenty minutes later, she was retching into a scrubby bush against the fortresses outer wall. Not wanting to startle her, he nudged a rock with his foot, sending it tumbling into the wall. She looked up and flew into his arms. He hushed and soothed her as she cried into the fur at his collar. _She’s too gentle for war_ , he thought, not for the first time. He fought his own tears of relief. The hour between his band going dark and lighting up again had been one of the worst in a life filled with horrible experiences.

“I killed him,” she hiccupped finally. “I killed Stroud.”

Cullen was reminded of the time she had drunkenly confessed that she blamed herself for Iron Bull being declared Tal Vashoth. “No, sweetheart,” he repeated, echoing himself that night, as he sat down on a nearby boulder, pulling her onto his lap. “No. Hawke and Stroud gave you an impossible choice. But you didn’t kill him. The Nightmare did. And he died in battle, the way a Grey Warden is supposed to. The way he would have wanted.”

“How did you know?” She looked up at him, her eyes red and filled with tears and confusion.

“Hawke told me. She wanted me to know where you were and why you were so upset. I nearly took a swing at her for asking you to choose between them.” He took a deep calming breath. He had told Marian that he forgave her. “She’s sorry. After all the choices she was asked to make in Kirkwall, she should have known better.”

“I couldn’t ask her to stay. It would have killed Varric. And it was to save her that you finally turned against Meredith. I couldn’t come back to you and say I killed her.”

“It’s not true about Stroud, and it wouldn’t have been true of Hawke.” He smiled, tilting her head to lay a kiss on Saibra’s forehead. “She likes you.”

“Really?” Cullen knew Saibra owned a dog-eared copy of Varric’s _Tale of the Champion_ , and Hawke was a minor hero to her.

“Really. She said she was glad I’d found someone to be kind to me. And that she was surprised I _allowed_ anyone to be kind to me. I suppose she knows me better than I thought.” He glanced at Saibra again, and his heart jumped. Her eyes were glazing over, skin slowly leaching of colour under the blotchiness from her tears.

“Cullen… something’s wrong…” Her eyes rolled up and she went limp in his arms. He frantically began running his hands over her, and cursed when one came away from the back of her legs slick with a mixture of blood and something dark and oily that turned his stomach.

“Healers!” he called running towards the camp, cradling her in his arms. “I need healers _now_!”

Solas and Dorian appeared at his shouts, and followed him to Saibra’s tent. They helped him lay her on her front, Dorian turning her head so she wasn’t smothered by the pillows she insisted on having for her camp bed while Cullen and Solas stripped off the flowing enchanter’s coat. It was clearer then, a gash through the leather of her trews from just below her right buttock to her knee. Dispassionate as always, Solas took a knife and split off her breeches. “There’s something in the wound,” he reported. “I’ll need to remove it. Hold her down.”

It was something he’d done for wounded soldiers before. Palms on her shoulders, he pressed down as Solas used his magic with precision to pull what looked like a long black, broken twig from her leg. Saibra’s scream of agony seemed to pierce his soul. 

“What is that?” Dorian asked in disgust, even as he allowed Solas to drop the… thing into a cloth in his hands. The black oil that had been mingling with Saibra’s blood seemed to be leaking from where the thing had snapped.

“Part of a fearling, I believe. She must have taken the wound as we fought the Nightmare.” Solas had already turned back to the Inquisitor and was pouring his magic into the wound. Cullen hissed as the lyrium in his blood sizzled at being so close to such an intense outpouring of magic. He pushed the pain away, focusing on watching the tissue and skin of his lover’s leg pull together and heal into a broad vicious-looking scar.

“Thank you,” he whispered, but his blood ran cold when his eyes met the elf’s.

“It is not over yet,” Solas warned. “The fearling blood has had too much time to mingle with the Inquisitor’s own. It is poison to her. I have done what I can, but the infection is already grave.”

“Will she… can she survive this?” Cullen fought to keep himself calm. Saibra was a fighter. From what Hawke had said, she had fought her way through the Fade because she didn’t want him thinking she was dead. She wouldn’t leave him now. She couldn’t.

“She has a fever,” Dorian reported, allowing ice crystals to form around his fingers before laying them on Saibra’s forehead. Cullen noticed that the normally swarthy Tevinter mage was pale under his tan.

“If she can fight off the fever, then she will live.” Solas shrugged. “Time will tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry/not sorry ;)
> 
> I'll be posting a little something new between now and the next chapter on Thursday, so keep your eyes peeled :)


	27. In the Light of Our Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Adamant have lasting repercussions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already please check out the short [An Abyss of His Fears](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7396105), which gives some of Cullen's perspective on the battle for Adamant. I'd love to hear what you think.

The first thing Saibra felt was an overpowering thirst. The second was that her left hand and wrist were being crushed. Blearily, she cracked open her eyes, following the line of her arm away from her body to where it disappeared underneath a curly blonde head resting on the mattress. More awake now, she could feel the fingers squeezing her own, and hot breath tickling the skin of her wrist as the owner of the fingers whispered the Chant.

“Cullen?” Her voice was little more than a croak but his head shot up. Her heart lurched as she took in his pale skin and the dark rings, like bruises, under his eyes. But his smile was real, full of happiness and relief. It wasn’t lyrium withdrawal that had done this, she realised, it was worry.

“You’re awake. Thank the Maker!” One hand reached out to brush her cheek and she closed her eyes at the softness of the touch. 

“Water?” Hearing her own voice, she wasn’t sure her request was intelligible, but Cullen rose at once to pour water from the pitcher on her desk. He carefully helped her sit, propping her up against his chest, holding the cup for her when her hands shook too much, and she realised that he wasn’t wearing his armour. They were in a tent, in the _field_ , and he was dressed in a cotton tunic rather than his ever-present breastplate. “How long?” she asked, after a few sips had softened the inside of her mouth. 

“Two days. You were… injured. It caused a fever. I… Maker’s breath, Saibra, I thought I’d lost you twice in one day!” She felt her heart crack with his voice. Nothing she could say would make him forget how worried he had been. From this angle she couldn’t even hold him. Her hand found the one around her waist, holding her against him and wrapped her long thin fingers around his big powerful ones squeezing as tight as she could, while he shook and dripped silent tears into her hair.

A few moments of silence were all it took to calm him. With a deep breath he moved to lay her down again. “I need to let the others know you’re awake. We’ve all been worried for you.”

“No,” she clung to his hand. “Once people know I’m awake the tent will turn into a meeting room and I’ll have to debrief you all and I’ll get no peace. Just a few more minutes alone with you. Please?”

Cullen didn’t argue, resettling her so she could rest her cheek against his chest, strong arms wrapped around her, safe and secure. “You don’t need to debrief us. Cassandra told us everything.” She cuddled closer, climbing onto his lap and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He sighed deeply and kissed her hair. “She… she told us about the graveyard of fears. She didn’t tell us what was on everyone’s stones but she told me… your greatest fear is Red Cullen?”

She fought to keep herself from trembling. “You corrupted with red lyrium, yes.”

“You never told me that. Why red lyrium, specifically?” His voice was curious, not worried or shamed. “I have much more access to regular lyrium. That’s what I crave when the withdrawal is bad.”

Saibra was glad she couldn’t see his face from this angle. His presence, his touch, was comforting, but she had never discussed her fears with anyone. “You won’t take lyrium. The withdrawal might be bad, and I have a theory about why some times are more difficult than others. You are strong enough to resist, and you have me here to help you. And I know how it works. I’ve been around it since I was eight. Maker, I carry it myself to boost my magic during hard fights. But red lyrium…” she clung tighter and Cullen rubbed her back, soothing her the way she’d see Vastra soothe Kitty or Marie after a nightmare. “I’ve never told you my nightmares. Mostly it’s Corypheus, but the worst ones… they started after Redcliffe. Remember what Dorian and I told you about how we found Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“Encased in red lyrium.”

“It was growing out of her, Cullen. And in my nightmares, you were in her place. I didn’t even know I loved you yet, but seeing you like that night after night nearly killed me. And then, after… after you asked to be removed as Commander… I don’t think anyone told you I woke the whole camp up screaming every night while we were away? Every night, I’d see you taking it because you thought it would make you as strong as the Inquisition needed you to be.”

His arms tightened around her. “I would _never_ do that.”

“I know. But that’s what scares me. You don’t need to. Red lyrium doesn’t need to be ingested to corrupt. You were at Kirkwall – you _know_ what it did to Meredith and you know she never drank it! You saw what it did to a Templar at the height of her powers who was exposed to it for long enough. When I leave Skyhold, I fight the Horrors and Behemoths it creates of those who take it voluntarily. What we don’t know is what it would do to an ex-Templar, battling with quitting regular lyrium, if he was exposed to it. And _that_ is why it’s my worst fear.”

“Then I’ll just have to stay away from red lyrium.”

………………………………………… 

That afternoon Saibra had insisted Cullen call all her advisors and companions into her tent for a meeting. Too unsteady to do much more than stand unaided, Cassandra had helped her dress and she sat on a stool, her companions arrayed before her, leaning on Cullen’s legs as he supported her from behind.

“So, where are we? Commander?”

“Your actions have denied Corypheus his army of pet demons, Inquisitor.” His voice from behind her rumbled through his body and into her spine, comforting her. “With the Orlesian support we gained at Halamshiral, our numbers match his. Corypheus’s followers must be panicking,” he finished smugly. 

“My agents agree,” affirmed Leliana. “Our victories have shaken his disciples.”

“Perhaps they’ll rethink following the darkspawn magister from the dawn of time,” Saibra snorted. “Solas, I assume we have wounded that can’t make the trip back to Skyhold yet?” The elf inclined his head in agreement. “Would they be able to make the journey to Griffon Wing?”

The elf’s eyes widened but he did not voice his surprise. “There are some I believe may not make it either way. The rest… could make the journey given one or two days.”

“Bull,” she smiled wickedly. “How do you think Rocky would enjoy blowing this place to bits?”

“He’d love it, Boss,” the Qunari confirmed, “but you-“

“I am going to be selfish for once,” replied Saibra. She could see the growing unease among her companions. Cullen was the only person she had spoken to at any length since she had awoken, and she could feel him shifting apprehensively behind her. “I am going home. Tomorrow.”

“Saibra, you can’t even walk yet. How do you plan to ride all the way back to Skyhold?” Dorian had one eye raised, sceptical as ever.

“I don’t. I’m injured, not an idiot. I’ll ride in one of the wagons with the provisions. But I _am_ going back to Skyhold.”

“Inquisitor, surely you can wait a few more days.” Cassandra sounded exasperated and Saibra felt like a child being admonished. Her temper snapped.

“I am giving an order, not asking permission, Lady Pentaghast. Cole was right. This place is evil and I want it gone now. And I want to be back in Skyhold as soon as possible. I want to hold my sister and kiss my nieces. I want a proper bath so I can get all the sand out of my hair. And I want to sleep in my own bed with Cullen next to me, and not alone in a fucking tent.” Her voice had risen to a shout. She knew they were staring at her. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Leave. Now.” Cullen’s warning growl startled her. “All of you.” His voice brooked no argument, and none of them did, filing out of her tent in ones and twos. Cullen moved to crouch before her, hands gently on her waist to keep her upright as they spoke. “Is that what this is about?” he asked quietly, all trace of the Commander gone from his voice. “That I keep to my own tent when we’re in the field together?”

Saibra closed her eyes, ashamed of having lost her temper. “Not entirely. I know you want to keep the chain of command clear for your men, and that you want to protect my reputation. But I don’t give a rat’s ass about my ‘reputation’.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she burrowed her face into his shoulder. “I need you there to help fight off the nightmares. I can’t be here anymore. It was too horrible.”

Cullen pulled her off the stool into his lap. He had been tortured by a demon, should know what they could do to a person’s mind. From what Hawke and Cassandra said, the Nightmare was an extraordinarily powerful fear demon that had whispered terrible things to them as they travelled. None of Saibra’s companions were quite themselves. Solas and Cole were arguing, Sera wouldn’t speak to anyone and Iron Bull was going around with a large stick asking people to hit him with it. Some method the Qun taught its people for dealing with fear, Dorian had explained. The Altus, as usual, had resorted to raiding the liquor supplies. Who was he to argue if Saibra wanted to run from the place of her torment? Hadn’t he done the same when he had requested reassignment from Kinloch? “I’ll stay with you tonight. And tomorrow I’ll take you home,” he promised.


	28. A Moment of Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the trauma of Adamant, Cullen and Saibra manage to take a moment for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a beta! 
> 
> Thank you to the very lovely [Shadowpyxy_pyxydust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowpyxy_pyxydust), who not only agreed to become my beta, but managed to get this chapter done within a couple of hours. You're awesome!

Saibra made her way slowly and painfully out to the large rock and sat down heavily with her back to the camp. Her strength was coming back, gradually, but the new scar on the back of her leg pulled every time she moved it. She checked over her shoulder briefly, making sure she could clearly be seen by the sentries and then faced out into the night again. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the noise from behind her. 

The cool night breeze played across her skin, twitching at her hair and whispering into the sand. She heard a fennec cry out and wondered if it was hunter or prey tonight. She had always loved being alone in nature. Vastra had once teased her that there must be Dalish blood somewhere in her mother’s family, since she was always being caught having snuck into the woods near their manor. She had missed it after she had been taken to the Circle. Opportunities to enjoy being outside were few and far between. It had to be the thing she enjoyed most about being out in the field. And it was why Cullen taking her to the lake at Honnleath had meant so much – they had been guilty of the same childhood wish to get away from their families and be somewhere peaceful.

She only had to think of him and he appeared. Even muffled in sand she could recognise his steps. Without opening her eyes, she held out her hand. He took it and sank into the sand by her rock, leaning his head against her thigh. She ran her free hand through his hair, silently pleased that he was now comfortable enough with their relationship not to worry about the camp full of his soldiers who could easily look over and see their Commander relaxing with his lady. A few weeks ago, he would barely have kissed her hand in public, even though the whole Inquisition knew they were together. She suspected it had something to do with the fact he had been openly sharing her tent for the last three nights and the world hadn’t caved in, or his soldiers stopped respecting either of them. Cassandra threatening the rest of her friends with certain painful death if they teased the Commander hadn’t hurt either. 

“Penny for them?” he asked quietly, closing his own eyes.

“They’re not worth that much. Is there anything I should know?” A raven had arrived just as they had been setting up camp, originally from Skyhold then forwarded on from the soldiers Cullen had left to guard Adamant until the Chargers arrived to dismantle the place, obviously having left the fortress before their own raven announcing their return journey had arrived.

“Not at present,” he answered automatically. Leliana, Cassandra and Cullen had all ganged up on her, refusing to allow her to see to anything that wasn’t urgent or able to be dealt with by someone other than the Inquisitor. She supposed it was testament to how much her injury and subsequent illness had frightened them, but it would have given her something to _do_ while sitting in the wagon she had appropriated for travelling in.

“I’ll amend that – is there anything I’d _want_ to know? You can tell me what’s happening without me having to act on it, you know,” she retorted, nudging his head with her leg to make her point.

Cullen sighed and brought her fingers to his lips in a soft kiss. “Not much, really. Josie was just worried that she hadn’t heard the outcome of the assault yet. I suppose we did neglect to write to her quickly enough. I had other things on my mind.” Saibra gave the hand holding hers a gentle squeeze. Cullen sighed again and squeezed back before continuing, “She had a list of potential governesses and tutors for Marie she wanted your opinion on. I told Leliana you would agree that was a job for her mother not her aunt.”

Saibra sighed. “I do. Please tell me Josie hasn’t told Vastra she was asking my opinion before hers?”

“No idea,” Cullen shrugged. “Oh, Solas and Cole brought us a request.”

“Is this what they’ve been bickering about?” 

“Apparently. Cole wanted Solas to bind him, so that he couldn’t be bound against his will by the Venatori.”

Saibra’s eyes snapped open, and she twisted to look at Cullen. “Kaffas! Really?”

“Something the Nightmare said got to him. Anyway, Solas talked him down from that.”

“Thank the Maker for small mercies,” she sighed in relief as he brought a hand up to rub the small of her back. “So what did they want?”

“There’s some kind of rare Rivaini amulet that would prevent the binding of an unwilling spirit, so they want to try that instead. Leliana was sure she could get someone to steal one but I convinced her to let Josie try and find one through our allies first” He paused and squinted a little. “At least, I think I convinced her.”

Saibra laughed. “We’ll get one for him, either way. If only all our fears could be dealt with so easily.”

“If you’re about to apologise for last night again…” Cullen grumbled. He had made the mistake of trying to touch her to bring her out of a nightmare only to find her whole body suffused with electricity. He supposed it was a good thing her automatic defensive magic wasn’t fire or she might have set the bedroll aflame. Really, he should have known better; it was the tug of his lyrium to her magic that woke him before she began whimpering.

“No, you’ve made it clear you don’t want to hear it,” she sighed, supressing the urge to apologise anyway.

Cullen rolled onto his knees, facing her. “You had a nightmare. You didn’t electrocute me on purpose. And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve woken you with one of my nightmares.”

The corner of her lip twitched. “You do flail around a lot when you dream…”

Cullen snorted, then sobered. “Solas did speak to me about something else.”

That brought an eye roll and a frustrated huff. “I _told_ him not to say anything.”

“Why won’t you take any lyrium?”

“Why do you think?” her voice was sharper than she intended, and she immediately regretted it when his gaze dropped. “Cullen…” she pulled his chin up so he was looking into her eyes. “Of course I don’t want to take lyrium potions around you. And I certainly _won’t_ allow any in our tent. But I’ve never liked taking it to replenish my magical strength.” He opened his mouth to argue but she silenced him with a kiss. “It’s different in the field, of course,” she continued, answering his unspoken argument. “If downing some of that awful stuff will give me enough of a boost to put up a barrier for Cassandra or revive Bull when he lets a dragon kick him in the head, of course I’ll take it. But – just like my leg – time will heal. And do a better job of it.”

He couldn’t help it. “You can barely light a candle. What if we’re attacked on the road?”

She laughed, “I’m travelling in the middle of a column of soldiers. Please tell me you don’t think your men will all run like frightened nugs if some bandits are stupid enough to try and ambush us?”

“And if it’s not bandits?” he asked, unconvinced.

She kissed him again. He was adorable when he was worried about her. “Then I have no doubt that you, Bull, and Cassandra will be circling my wagon in seconds. And Dorian will be in it, tripping over me while he chucks fireballs about and sends their own dead after them. Speaking of which, we might need you to explain the concept of friendly fire to Cole. ”

“Yes, Dorian mentioned that one.” He stood and offered her a hand. “We should get back. It’s getting late, and our tent will be up by now.”

She stood carefully and began limping towards the camp. “You know,” she added conversationally, “Sera has these really cool grenades filled with bees. I bet she’d let me keep some in the wagon to use if we’re attacked.”

“Maker’s breath, Saibra, no!”


	29. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns that being strong for the one you love sometimes hurts them more.

The journey back to Skyhold took nearly two weeks, travelling slowly enough for the trebuchets. Saibra would have happily left them behind, but she knew part of the reason Cullen insisted that they keep their forces together was a concern that travelling too fast would exacerbate her injury. Or that having to sit in a wagon while they travelled meant she was forced to get the rest Solas insisted she needed. Boredom made her short-tempered and snappish; a situation not helped by her continuing nightmares.

Getting back to her fortress helped, and Cullen secretly vowed never to underestimate the positive effect of a hot bath and a proper bed on Saibra’s temper. He had anticipated difficulty in convincing her to remain in Skyhold until she was fully recovered, but she surprised him. Saibra seemed content to spend time helping him to teach Marie chess. She even declined to go with Solas, Varric, and Cole to Redcliffe when the (very expensive) Rivaini amulet didn’t work and since Cole had declared that they would find answers there. 

So his heart sank when he read the latest reports, knowing he’d have to send her out into the field again. There was a War Room meeting scheduled for that afternoon. She would be away before the week was out. But still, this was news he’d been waiting a long time for— since Haven. It felt good to finally have a lead on the traitor who had once been his friend.

“Inquisitor,” he wasted no time, after she entered the War Room. With his heart torn in two directions, he wanted this over with as soon as possible. “We’ve found where the Red Templars have been coming from. Therinfal Redoubt.”

“My people report that the knights were fed red lyrium until they turned into monsters,” Leliana chimed in. “A man called Samson took over after their corruption was complete.”

“Isn’t that the name of the general you recognised at Haven, Cullen?” Maker, she was sharp. He might have to rethink crowning Hawke the most observant woman in Thedas. It had been months ago and they had been under attack. Maker’s breath, she had nearly died less than an hour later! But she remembered one throw away comment he had made under fire. 

“When I arrived in Kirkwall, Samson and I shared quarters. He seemed a decent man, at first. Knight-Commander Meredith later expelled him for “erratic behaviour”. I knew he was an addict, but this…” he shook his head. The man who had helped a broken boy settle into a new city was not the man he had seen leading the armies of Corypheus against a village full of refugees. “He ended up begging on Kirkwall’s streets. He committed further crimes, but managed to escape the Order’s justice. Now Samson serves Corypheus, apparently as his most loyal general.”

“Why do you think Samson joined Corypheus?” Saibra’s question bored its way into his soul. He was a lyrium addict who had left the Order. By choice and with a reliable source of lyrium to cushion him if he decided the withdrawal was too much, but he could easily have found himself in a similar situation to Samson’s if Hawke’s battle with Meredith had gone the other way. That or he would be dead. Cullen had never liked to dwell on that possibility.

“He had a chronic lyrium addiction. He spent every last coin buying it from local smugglers. Perhaps Corypheus flattered his vanity, gave him purpose as well as lyrium. Perhaps that’s all it took.” There were days, much like today, where he knew how little it would take anyone to persuade him to crawl back into the lyrium bottle.

Saibra’s voice was soft when she replied, “It sounds as though Samson had a miserable life.” It sounded as if she was as capable as he was of drawing the parallels between his situation and Samson’s. 

“The Order expelled him, but he had choices. He could have found another path.” Cullen knew he sounded defensive, and he fought back the urge to highlight their differences. “I don’t understand how he became so powerful. Even with red lyrium, Samson’s glory days are long behind him.”

“The Red Templars still require lyrium,” Josephine jumped in, attempting to smooth over what was rapidly becoming a discussion on life choices between the two lovers. 

“If we find their source, we can weaken them _and _their leader,” Leliana agreed. “Caravans of red lyrium are being smuggled along trade routes. There seems to be an excessive number of them coming out of the Emerald Graves. Investigating them could lead to where it’s being mined.”__

__Saibra sighed. “I guess the holiday is over. Leliana, Scout Harding is there investigating the Freemen that moved there from the Exalted Plains?” The spymistress merely inclined her head in agreement. “Please send me all her reports. Varric’s latest letter indicated he, Solas, and Cole will be back tomorrow. I need to give them some turnaround so… three days?” At the advisors nods of agreement, she smiled. “All right,” she turned to Leliana. “Could you remind Madam Vivienne that Cole is a real boy now… well, as much as he ever can be. Make some suitably vague but powerful threat about what I’ll do to her if I hear her refer to him as my ‘pet demon’ again.”_ _

__Leliana’s grin was wolfish. “My pleasure, Inquisitor.”_ _

__“If you’ll excuse me,” Cullen didn’t wait for any of them to acknowledge him before he left. His headache was building rapidly, and he would not allow the women to see him falter._ _

__…………………………………………_ _

__“Right,” Cullen jumped as his tower door banged open looked up to see Saibra standing there. “Time for your healing.”_ _

__He watched with wary eyes as she flitted from one door to the other, sliding home the bolts that locked them from the inside. “I don’t need healing,” he muttered sulkily._ _

__Saibra raised an eyebrow as she slid the last bolt into place. “Really? So, you practically ran from the War Room then holed up here in the dark for fun?” She was at her most sarcastic when she was anxious, he knew. He sighed, shaking his head and dropping his eyes. Saibra’s voice softened. “I’m not stupid, beloved. It’s been bad since we returned from Adamant, hasn’t it?” Cullen nodded. “I thought so.”_ _

__He looked up at her, giving up the fight to hide the shaking in his hands as she stood over him, hands on hips. She sighed and crouched in front of him taking his trembling fingers in her own and gently massaging them. Their eyes met, her gaze questioning. For all she had announced that she would heal him, she was still sensitive enough to wait for his permission to use her magic. He nodded and sighed in relief as he felt her magic loosen the tightness in his joints._ _

__“You said,” he began, then stopped not knowing how to ask the question that had been plaguing him ever since the night she had awoken after her fever. He wasn’t truly sure if he wanted to know the answer._ _

__“What did I say?” her voice was gentle, eyes slightly unfocused as she manipulated her magic into his weary bones and fiery nerves._ _

__“You mentioned… you had a theory about why this doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”_ _

__“If by ‘this’ you mean the withdrawal, then it is getting better. It’s just hard for you to see it in the middle of an episode.” She gave a tired sigh. “I really didn’t want to do this while you were struggling. It’s just a theory. I need more information. Some of it I’m getting now— through the healing. But some of it I can only get from you. I need to ask you questions, and I need you to answer honestly. Can you do that? Even if you don’t understand why they matter?”_ _

__Cullen nodded, the headache slowly receding. “I’ll do my best.”_ _

__“Okay,” her voice was slightly shaky, as if she was as nervous at him. “It was bad immediately after the Conclave and immediately after Halamshiral, and both those times it was overwhelming and you weren’t sure how to cope?” He nodded. “It was also bad after I brought the mages back from Redcliffe, after Haven was destroyed, and immediately after Adamant, but you were able to work through it?”_ _

__Cullen thought for a moment, then frowned. “Yes. Now that I think on it, yes. How did you know?”_ _

__Saibra let go of his hands and stood, walking away from him, and he realised she had pulled her healing magic away moments before. She wouldn’t look at him. “When were the times, since we first met, that you were most worried for me? Not just, ‘Saibra’s out in the field so I can’t protect her’ but ‘Something is wrong with Saibra and I need to be strong for her’ worried?”_ _

__He thought again and connections began to click in his head. “After Redcliffe when I saw how traumatised you were, after we found you in the mountains after Haven, and when you were so sick after Adamant.” He stood, caught her around the waist, and drew her down onto the couch he had placed in his room to give her somewhere to sit when she visited his office. “Where is this going?”_ _

__Saibra pulled away from him, to free her arms, and he recognised her version of a lecture. While he liked to pace as he explained things, Saibra gesticulated. “Whenever I heal you, I can feel the lyrium levels in your blood. You would expect that something like lyrium would leech out of your blood slowly and evenly, like this.” She made a graceful, slightly curved diagonal slash in the air with a hand. “But it’s not. It seems to be going more like this.” She made a sharper, more stuttering gesture, like drawing a flight of stairs in the air. “So, instead of gradually losing a little at a time and having a prolonged but manageable period where you feel rotten, you lose a lot and have a hellish few weeks. As you get used to the lower levels and things settle down, you start to think this is the new ‘normal’. Then you suddenly lose another chunk and you feel like you’ve been trampled by a druffalo while Bull takes his axe to your skull.”_ _

__Cullen chuckled. “That’s a fairly accurate summary of how I felt before you came in. And you think you can predict when I’m going to have one of these drops?”_ _

__Saibra nodded, seriously. “Times of stress.” Cullen raised his eyebrows. “I know, we’re all under stress all the time. But some times are more stressful than others. And the times when I’m doing well, and you don’t think I need you , are the worst. Cullen…” she looked away, took a deep breath, and looked back up at him. He was appalled to see there were tears in her eyes. “I always need you, Cullen. Always. Why is it okay for you to worry about me and care about how I’m doing, but not for me to care for you? Why do you still try and hide the worst of this from me?” She looked away again, a tear trailing down her cheek and dripping off her chin. “Don’t you trust me?”_ _

__Cullen pulled her to him, kissing the tears away from her cheeks before burying his face in her hair. “Sweetheart, no. Of course I trust you. More than anyone. Maker’s breath, I’m sorry. I never wanted you to think that. Please, Saibra, look at me. Please.” Saibra sniffed and shuddered, but looked up. His heart broke at the misery on her face. “I’m bad at this. I know that. I’ve never had anyone care for me the way you do.”_ _

__“Mia cares,” Saibra pointed out, sounding slightly mutinous . “I’ve seen the letters.”_ _

__“You’re probably right,” Cullen conceded. “But it’s easier to forget that when I haven’t seen her in nearly twenty years. The point is that I’ve been looking after myself since I was thirteen. When I’ve struggled or found things… difficult, I’ve just had to deal with it myself. It just never occurs to me to ask for help.” He kissed her softly. “I promise, I’ll try harder. Don’t give up on me yet. Please.”_ _

__Saibra smiled shakily, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I could never give up on you, Cullen.”_ _

__“Good,” he smiled, “because I plan on holding on to you.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on holiday for a fortnight so this will be the last update for two weeks. Aren't you glad I didn't leave you on a cliffhanger? Hopefully I'll come back with an nice big backlog of chapters and maybe some new one-shots.
> 
> I do have a nice little extra that may or may not be going up tomorrow... watch this space. :)


	30. A Modest Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Saibra have a very serious talk. On a desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!
> 
> If I have to pay for half an hour's worth of internet to deal with a client's urgent email while I'm on holiday, I might as well use the rest of the time to post a new chapter here. 
> 
> So thanks again to shadowpyxy_pyxydust for getting this beta'd before I went away and greetings from sunny France!

“Vishante kaffas! For the love of…. Urrrgh!” she shrieked, throwing the paper she had been reading across the room to land in a ball near Cullen’s feet. 

“What did that report ever do to you?” he chuckled picking it up. “Do you need it or…?”

“No!” Saibra had been lounging on the couch in his office going through papers, trying to spend as much time with him as possible before she left for the Graves the next morning. There were two neat piles on the floor, categorising the ones she had already been through and another pile on her lap, which scattered as she suddenly leapt up from the couch. She shot forward as if to grab it from him, then stopped, paused, and slumped back down with her head in her hands. “We should probably talk about it.”

Cullen frowned. He had never seen Saibra like this, frustrated and angry and… scared? He smoothed out the single sheet of paper to read the lone sentence written in a childish hand.

_When are you going to marry Uncle Cully?_

“What-?” Cullen wasn’t even sure what to ask. He felt suddenly cold. They had both been avoiding this question and now it hung between them.

“I don’t know where she got this obsession from. No, I do – my fucking sister. I’m so sorry, Cullen. She’s been leaving me bits of paper like this everywhere. This is the last thing you need to worry about.” Saibra was up, pacing and rambling in a way he recognised from every time she’d thought he was going to turn her down or been nervous about their relationship.

“It might not have been Vastra,” Cullen admitted. “She asked me about it once. I thought I’d distracted her. I should have told you.”

“What?” Saibra’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There hasn’t really been time,” Cullen knew that was at least partly an excuse. “It was just after you’d left for the Western Approach . She asked if we were getting married and was that why I let her call me Uncle Cully. When I told her I’d like to, one day, she started to talk about how her mother had said you wouldn’t because of the Divine and the Circles .”

“I’m going to kill Vastra,” Saibra muttered under her breath. 

“Saibra…” Cullen really wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to this, but since they’d started the conversation… “Why has Vastra been talking to Marie about us getting married?”

Saibra slumped on the edge of his desk, head down, unable to meet his eye. “She thinks that if I don’t get a commitment from you, you’ll be away and meeting someone else as soon as Corypheus is defeated.”

Cullen sighed. “This war won’t last forever, it’s true. When it started, I… well, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now.”

He leaned on the desk, facing away from her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saibra look up at him. “What do you mean?” There was a war going on in her eyes between confusion and hope.

“I find myself wondering what will happen after. Vastra is wrong. I won’t want to move on… not from you.” He pulled off one glove and reached up to stroke her cheek. She leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering closed. He pulled his hand away, uncertain. He still didn’t know what she wanted. “But I don’t know what you- that is, if you, ah…” he pulled away completely, staring at his feet.

“Cullen.” Saibra’s voice was strong, certain. She slid over, pushing away one of his hands to get between him and the desk. Cullen looked into her face. “Do you need to ask?”

“I suppose not,” he whispered, moving to stand between her legs as she perched on the edge of the desk. “I want-“

Saibra’s hand brushed against the bottle of wine they’d emptied earlier and it went tumbling to smash on the stone at her feet. She gave a little breathy gasp, and they both stared at the broken glass. His eyes met hers as they darkened, shifting from bright sapphire to deep cobalt. Her breath coming in little gasps stirred something deep in him. 

Without a word, Cullen swept everything from the desk. Papers and books tumbled off to land in the shattered remains of inkwells and wine glasses. Reading him as well as she always did, Saibra slid backwards, giving him the space to climb onto the desk over her. Her hands found his face as he buried his hands in her hair and pulled the pins out until chestnut waves draped over the mahogany desk. His heart jumped erratically as her hand slid down to undo the laces of her breeches, and he groaned when she lifted her hips to slide the interfering garment down her legs. In turn she moaned and nuzzled her face into the fur of his collar as he undid his own laces and pulled his cock free.

Before this, Cullen had always been aware that he was her first—her only. In awe of the love he felt for the strong, slight woman before him, he had been gentle, slow, almost reverent. Before this, they had only made love.

Now, he was fucking Saibra Trevelyan on his desk.

He could feel one hand buried in his hair, pulling at the carefully styled curls, while the other battled for purchase on his back, eventually digging nails into the fur of his cloak. When she wrapped her legs around his hips, he felt himself jerk and he yanked her tunic open, scattering the delicate clasps that held it closed, as he buried his nose into her collarbone, licking and nibbling the tender skin there, thrusting in time with her ecstatic whimpers. 

She was close. They both were. He pulled one hand away from where his fingers had been tangled in her hair to stroke the tight little bundle of nerves between her legs. A few brushes of his sword-calloused fingers was all it took before he felt her clenching around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

As their breathing slowed, Cullen realised two things: Saibra was being crushed beneath the breastplate he still wore. And all three tower doors were still unlocked. He tried to pull away from her, but she was still clinging round his neck and rose with him. He pulled her up further, setting her on her feet. “Up the ladder. Now.” His voice was harsh, almost a growl. He regretted it for only half a second before he saw her eyes darken with lust again. Without a word, she snatched up her discarded boots and breeches and scrambled for the ladder to his loft. 

Cullen didn’t think he’d ever bolted all the doors so fast. 

………………………………………… 

Hours later, Saibra trailed her fingers lightly along the scar in Cullen’s side, enjoying the way it made ticklish muscles twitch in pleasure. “I suppose we should talk about what all this means?” she asked shyly.

“I’m not sure any more needs to be said,” Cullen muttered, grabbing her roving fingers and bringing them to his lips. She could see the moonlight from the hole in the roof reflected in his amber eyes. “We both want to be together. I would prefer it to be as husband and wife, but with things the way they are for mages under the Chantry I understand that may not be a possibility.”

“It may be, eventually,” she replied, propping herself up on an elbow and resuming her tracing, this time of the starburst on the shoulder nearest her. Looking at that was easier than looking at him. “Cass and Leli have both said that if they are elected mages will be able to marry and raise families. But have you thought about the fact that my children will probably be mages?”

“Saibra look at me.” His voice was stern, more an order than a request as he grabbed her hand and stilled it. “I don’t have a problem with you being a mage. I don’t have a problem that, if we ever decide to have children, they may be mages. It hasn’t stopped me loving you, and it will not stop me loving them. I don’t love you despite your magic. I love all of you.” He pulled her into a deep kiss, and she couldn’t help but hum in pleasure as he nipped her bottom lip.

“Okay,” she murmured when they broke apart, taking a deep breath. “What do we tell Marie? And my sister.”

One of the reasons Cullen was such a good commander, and such a good chess player, was his strategic, ordered mind. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She could see that tactical brain working behind his eyes. “We’ve agreed that if the Chantry gives permission for mages to marry then you will marry me? That’s what you want?” 

Saibra nodded. “Yes. More than anything, Cullen.”

“Then we’re betrothed.” He said it so simply, stated it as a matter of fact. Then he beamed the biggest happiest smile she had ever seen on him. And Saibra knew it was only a reflection of her own huge smile. It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off of her, like she was flying. He continued listing facts, grinning like the smile would split his face. “We can’t make it public because of the ban on mages marrying, and of course we have to defeat Corypheus first, but after…” His smile never dimmed, but his eyes softened. His voice held a level of awe she had never heard from him before. “You agreed to marry me.”

“I did,” she whispered. Then she laughed. “You realise that we’re already wearing promise bands? And they were given to us by Dorian!” 

Cullen gave a snort of disgust, chuckled, then laughed. “What would Mother Giselle say?”

“Let’s never tell her,” Saibra giggled, burying her face in his shoulder and shaking suppressed laughter. “Maker’s breath it was hard enough to convince her Dorian wasn’t ‘corrupting’ me?”

“I know!” Cullen could barely breathe with laughter now. “But it would serve her right for starting those rumours in the first place. She wanted me to speak to you and convince him to leave.”

“Really?” Saibra was taking deep breaths trying to calm herself. “What did you say?”

“Well, you’d gone to deal with that dragon in the Hinterlands. We’d just kissed for the first time. So I told her, ‘The Inquisitor is in no danger of being corrupted by Master Pavus. I got there first.’ ”

It was a long time before Saibra stopped laughing enough to kiss him.


	31. Letters From the Graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra struggles with something she finds in the Emerald Graves while Cullen learns more about her past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos while I was away. You guys are all awesome!
> 
> In RL news, I just found out when I got back that I'd been accepted into my MSc programme starting in September so I'll be doing that part-time as well as running my business. I'm going to try and keep updating this twice weekly, but if I keep closing in on the number of pre-written chapters I have completed then I might have to drop down to weekly. But I'm enjoying Cullen and Saibra too much to give up on them, especially when there's so much of their story still to be told.

_Beloved,_

_The Graves are beautiful, all lush forests and stunning plants. Dorian’s complaining that it’s too much wilderness for him and that we’ll get lost and starve to death, but I think it’s gorgeous. So different from the Marches or Ferelden. Cole likes it because trees don’t hurt people. I wish you could see it. Maybe one day, when all this is over, we can come together?_

_I hope the letter we found in that smuggler’s camp helps in tracing Samson. I can’t imagine why he’d want to ‘buy’ people getting sick from contact with red lyrium, but it worries me. I know this is important to you. Sometimes you seem more angry at Samson than Corypheus. Please, don’t let this become all you work on while I’m away. Take some time to play chess with Marie, or have a drink with the Chargers. And remember – I only fuss because I love you._

_Maker watch over you, beloved  
S_

………………………………………… 

_My Lady,_

_Tell Dorian there was much more chance of you starving in the Western Approaches. At least there’s plenty of hunting in a forest._

_I’ve never much seen the attraction of anywhere in Orlais, but I suppose the Dales can be thought of more as conquered territory than Orlais proper. If you think the Graves are beautiful then I will gladly see them with you. I just wish they didn’t have such a morbid name._

_Sometimes I am more angry at Samson. Corypheus is insane and certainly no longer human. Samson should know better. But you are right, I have other commitments to attend to and I cannot spend all my time worrying about what a man I once called ‘friend’ is doing now._

_I sneak Marie out of her lessons to play chess more often than I should. She is as clever and almost as beautiful as her aunt, but she will always be a poor substitute for the person I really want to spend my time with._

_Be safe, my love  
C_

………………………………………… 

_Love,_

_I want to come home. I need so much to see you and have you hold me and tell me it’s all right._

_You’ll have seen the reports from the Château d’Onterre, but they can’t possibly tell you how terrible it was inside. And all because Lord d’Onterre didn’t want his daughter to be like me. I thought it bad enough that Papa disowned me. I can’t imagine how scared she was._

_The Graves don’t seem so beautiful anymore._

_Cassandra says we just need to deal with the Venatori presence hiding in the ruins of Din’an Hanin and then we can leave. I hope it won’t take too long._

_I miss you,  
S_

Cullen sighed as he read the letter for the fifth time. It never got any easier, knowing she was in pain and far away where he could do nothing about it. 

“A penny for them?” Lady Vastra was dressed simply but elegantly. Somehow she managed to exude the grace and prestige of a wealthy widow and heiress to a bannorn without all the ruffles Josephine wore or jewels Vivienne insisted on having.

“It wasn’t so long ago I was asking your sister the same thing, Lady Harrington.” 

“Vastra, please, Commander. You are betrothed to my sister. That makes you family.” She sat next to him on the garden bench, and he wondered where Marie and Kitty were. She usually spent this time of day in the chantry, praying for the soul of the husband she had lost at the conclave, and normally Marie would seek him out, begging for a game of chess.

“Then I must be Cullen, Lady Vastra.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, looking so very much like his Saibra. “Close enough. May I ask what is troubling you?”

He debated internally with himself, then passed Saibra’s letter over to her. There were no military secrets in there. Even if there had been, he couldn’t see the lady betraying her sister. She read it quickly—another thing she and Saibra had in common— and echoed his own sigh. “Old wounds never do heal cleanly, do they Cullen?” She scanned his face then. “Has Saibra ever spoken of our parents?”

“Very rarely,” Cullen admitted. “She often spoke of you and the girls, very fondly, but she admitted she wasn’t close to your father and stepmother.”

“You should know the family you are marrying into.” Vastra stood smoothing her skirts. “Walk with me?” Cullen rose and offered his arm. They strolled in silence for a minute, Vastra seeming to gather her thoughts before she spoke. “I don’t remember my mother. She died before my second birthday. It had been a marriage of convenience, and Papa married my stepmother as soon as the formal mourning period was over. He’d loved her for years.”

She smiled up at Cullen then, and he could see Saibra in her smile. “Lady Nicolette was a wonderful woman. She never treated me any differently from Saibra, always introduced me as her elder daughter. She was my Mama as much as Saibra’s. We were a very happy family, until Saibra’s magic manifested.” Her face darkened. “Papa adored Saibra. She was everything to him. As far as he was concerned, the day Saibra left for Ostwick Circle was the day she died.”

“He must have known,” Cullen answered carefully, “that as Bann he could have seen her. She would have been allowed to have visitors. Certainly, he could have written to her.”

“It was too painful. Mama and I wrote, often, and Mama tried to show Saibra’s replies to him. But he insisted that he had only one daughter.” They came to the bench Vastra had first found him on, and she drew him back down. “I think Saibra understood, in her way. I think it was hard to get our letters because she knew what she was missing out on. Until the rebellion, she thought she would spend her whole life in that tower. What I don’t think she can ever forgive him for is not telling her when Mama died.”

Cullen blinked at her, confused. “I thought there was still a Lady Trevelyan?”

“There is,” Vastra assured him. “Papa’s third wife. Saibra’s never met her. It was another political alliance, trying to get some influence in Nevarra. Arabella Pentaghast. I think that means we’re related to the Lady Seeker by marriage.”

“Cassandra has a chart to show her who she’s related to,” Cullen told her with a smile. “I’m sure she’d help you figure it out.”

“I may just ask her about that sometime,” Vastra smiled. 

“Forgive me, Lady Vastra,” Cullen asked tentatively, “but why didn’t you write to Saibra?”

Vastra’s smile was sad; it didn’t reach her eyes. “Mama died the day before Marie was born. Saibra understood, though I think she would have forgiven me just about anything for giving her a niece. It took me a long time to forgive myself,” she sighed. Cullen took her hand and squeezed it gently. Vastra smiled up at him gratefully. “He regrets it now, abandoning her. Not because of this Inquisition business. But because she would be a piece of Mama. I’m not her daughter. My girls are not her grandchildren. If he hadn’t been so insistent that he only had one daughter, he would still have something of Mama. And Saibra is so like her.”

Vastra stood. “Thank you for listening, Cullen. I am beginning to see more and more why my sister loves you. Please, I know you are a busy man, but I know the girls would love it if you would join us for dinner tonight.”

Cullen stood and bowed. “It would be my pleasure, Lady Vastra.”


	32. Grace and No Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are drawn up and a little fun is had by all.

Saibra came straight to his tower when she and her team arrived back in Skyhold. He was waiting for her, and she fell straight into his arms. 

“It’s all right; I’m here,” Cullen murmured into her hair. She wasn’t crying, but she was trembling like a leaf. This had been a tough one. After a moment, she pulled away, the mask of the Inquisitor on her face again. 

“War Room. Let’s get this over with.”

It didn’t take long to cover her expedition to the Emerald Graves. Saibra and Cassandra both wrote excellent reports and all that needed going over were some clarifications. Then it was onto the advisors.

“The letters you sent to us led to a band of smugglers. Those we interrogated,” Cullen nodded at Leliana, who inclined her head in acknowledgement, “gave up the red Templars’ main source of red lyrium, Inquisitor.”

“Good,” Saibra’s distress of earlier had vanished. Now she was all business. “Where?”

“The mine is located in the Dales, near a town called Sahrnia, my lady.” 

Cullen was happy to cede to Leliana on this. It was her interrogations that had given them the information after all. But he couldn’t help adding , “Destroying the mine there will cripple Samson’s operations.”

“Excellent work, Commander, Nightingale,” Saibra beamed at him. “I’ll investigate the mine.”

“Destroying the Red Templar’s source of lyrium will be a loss Samson won’t soon forget ,” he continued. 

“However,” Josephine interrupted, “there are other matters which may require your attention. Lady Cassandra has tracked Lord Seeker Lucius to Caer Oswin . She has made a formal request that we investigate. And a dwarf calling herself Bianca Davri has arrived asking for Varric.”

“Bianca? As in _the_ Bianca?” Saibra was as stunned as Cullen had been when Josephine first told him of the woman’s presence. “I _knew_ there was a story behind that bloody crossbow!” Her grin was infectious. “Well, they’ll have to wait a while. The red Templars are the biggest threat we face at the moment. Cassandra will understand, and I’m sure Varric will be glad to have the other Bianca around for a while.”

………………………………………… 

“There you are!” Varric grabbed Saibra’s arm as she and Cullen emerged from her rooms that evening. It had been nice spending an evening with him and her family. Marie had been keen to show off what she’d learnt while her aunt was away, and Kitty had even spoken to Cullen. “I’ve been looking all over for you?”

“Oh,” Saibra’s grin was wicked. “Did you want to introduce us to your… friend?”

Varric’s eyes went wide. “No!” He hissed frantically. “No one can know she’s here. Not if I want to keep my head!” He glanced around hurriedly to see if anyone had noticed. Satisfied they hadn’t, he took her arm and began steering her towards the main doors. “You’re just in time. We almost had to start without you.” Saibra turned her head to raise an eyebrow at Cullen, who could only shake his head and smile before falling into step behind them.

“What exactly were you starting without me, now?” she asked, laughing as he pulled her down the stairs and towards the tavern. 

The dwarf shook his head, laughing. “Come on!” He checked to make sure Cullen was still following them. “You too, Curly.” Opening the Tavern door, he waved to Cabot for three more ales before steering them over to a long table. Saibra was surprised to see almost all of the Inquisition’s leadership there. Only Leliana, Solas, and Vivienne were missing— though Sera was perched on a railing overlooking the table rather than round it with everyone else. “I found them, Ruffles!” Varric called to Josie. “Deal them in!”

Josie was flushed with wine and grinning broadly . “I do hope I recall the rules,” she smiled gesturing for Saibra to take the seat next to her while Varric and Cullen took the empty chairs opposite. “It’s been ages since I played a game of Wicked Grace.”

“Are we playing cards or what?” Bull was fired up. He’d been angsty ever since they’d fought the revenant in Din’an Hanin. He hated being surprised by demons.

Cassandra eyed her cards suspiciously. “Are three Drakes better than a pair of Swords. I can never remember?”

“Seeker,” Varric grinned, “remember how I said, ‘don’t show anyone your hand’?” Cassandra nodded intently. “That rule includes announcing it to the table.” That set them all off, except Cole who cocked his head in confusion.

“There’s a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn’t want either.” That brought another wave of laughter.

Varric shook his head fondly. “Don’t talk to the face cards, kid.”

Cullen had been watching the banter between Saibra’s friends warily over the rim of his mug. He pushed back from the table. “You seem to have enough people,” he announced. “I have a thousand things to do.”

Dorian reached over Varric’s head to pull the Commander back down. “Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming,” he drawled. “Give it a try.”

“Please, Cullen,” Saibra asked. “Just for a little while. Won’t it be nice to spend an evening together?” It was blackmail, and she knew it. 

Varric joined in, slapping Cullen on the back. “Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it’s you. Besides trying to find ways to sneak into Dutchess’s rooms when you think no one’s watching, that is.”

“I’ll start at three coppers,” Josie announced settling the matter. “Do you think that’s too daring?” she asked Saibra. “Maybe I’ll make it one?”

“Seriously?” Bull thumped the table. There was no real force behind it, but he was still strong enough to make the tankards on the table jump. “Who starts at three coppers?” He swept his single eye in a glare across the table. “Silver, or go home,” he insisted , tossing three silver coins onto the table.

Blackwall, Dorian, and Varric matched him. “Well?” Varric asked her. “Are you in?”

Saibra added her three to the table. “Just remember I’m still new to this game.” She eyed Cullen across the table. “I might need someone to defend my honour.” He sighed and slumped back down before tossing his own bet into the pot.

It only took a few rounds, and a few ales, for Cullen to relax into the spirit of the game. He had played Saibra and Dorian at chess, had known Varric for years, and worked closely with Josephine every day, but he had never really seen what Saibra’s company was like when it was together. The laughter and joking around the campfire or in roadside taverns, the teasing and subtle nuances of their connected friendships. It was surprising to hear about how Blackwall and Sera had tag-teamed Solas into a conversation about whether he had ever been more than ‘just good friends’ with a spirit in the Fade. He knew Dorian and the Iron Bull had been a couple almost as long as he and Saibra, but he had never seen Bull’s quiet but sincere displays of affection for the Tevinter mage. He knew Cole had specifically asked Varric to accompany him to find out the truth of his past, but he hadn’t realised how completely the trickster dwarf had taken on the role of big brother to the spirit. Even Cassandra and Varric’s arguments were more like the affectionate bickering he remembered from his childhood with his siblings.

And at the heart of it all was his Saibra. Gently chastising the pranksters for teasing Solas while admitting he was an easy mark. Soothing Cassandra’s ruffled feathers when Varric wound her up too far. Encouraging Cole when he seemed shy about being part of the memories they were creating. And all too often gazing up at him with love and laughter in her eyes. He thought back to Cassandra’s early reports, when they were still getting to know who their Herald was. _The Herald seems to draw strength from the peoples’ faith in her_ , she had written. It was easy to see now that she drew her strength from these people who had come to be a second family to her. And from him.

“The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers,” he recalled. He couldn’t remember when they had begun trading stories. Things were getting fuzzy now, and he wondered how many ales he’d had exactly . “And this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty Templars turned to stare at once.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of Kinloch without pain. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Then a slow round of applause began, and spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation.”

“What did he do?” Josie’s giggle was infectious. 

“Saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out like he was in full armour.”

The table lost it. “He did not!” Cassandra gasped in delight at the same time Bull roared, “You’re shitting us!”

“That’s how you _know_ it’s true,” Varric informed the table. “I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely.”

“I think we need another round of drinks,” Saibra announced, shoulders still shaking as she stood.

“I’ll help,” Cullen rose and offered her his arm.

While they waited for Cabot to fill more tankards, Saibra drew him into a warm kiss. “Having fun, beloved.”

“You know, I think I am.” It felt good to have her arms around him. He’d thought they could have a quiet evening together. He hadn’t realised how much she would need this. Château d’Onterre had shaken her, and as time went on the weight of leading the Inquisition and the pain the Mark was causing seemed to be dragging her down. He could offer her a safe, quiet refuge, but sometimes she needed laughter and light as well as peace and safety. “I could do with taking Josie down a peg or two,” he mused into her hair. “We’ll have no coin left at the rate she’s going.”

“Vastra always told me never to play Wicked Grace with an Antivan,” Saibra smiled, nuzzling into his neck. “What are you going to do about it?” They both jumped as Cabot slammed three full pitchers down on the bar next to them. Cullen offered Saibra one before taking the other two.

“Deal again,” he ordered Josephine, who was collecting more winnings from a scowling Iron Bull as they got back to the table. “I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

He could see Saibra across the table, eyes wide shaking her head frantically, but Josephine leaned forward, eyes glinting wickedly. “Commander!” she affected shock. “Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

“Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand,” he replied mildly, sitting back. Idly, he wondered where Sera had got to. 

“I’m not losing any more coin to Josephine,” Saibra announced. “But I must stay and support my Commander.” Slowly, everyone else bowed out of the hand, but no one left the table. Cullen began to have a very bad feeling about this.

………………………………………… 

“Don’t say a word, Dwarf,” Cullen muttered at Varric, wriggling awkwardly to remove his smalls without standing. Succeeding at last, he dropped them onto the pile of his armour on the floor behind him. 

Varric simply chuckled, unperturbed by Cullen’s discomfort. “I tried to warn you, Curly.”

“So did I, love,” Saibra’s lip was twitching as she tried to hold in her laughter, but her eyes danced all the same. “Never bet against an Antivan.”

Cassandra rose. At least she was managing to keep a straight face. “I’m leaving. I don’t want to witness our Commander’s walk of shame back to the Inquisitor’s tower.” 

“Well, I do!” Dorian declared. Saibra’s hand shot out and the Altus cursed at the charred mark on the table where his hand had been.

“I already threatened to burn Leliana’s shoes if she harasses _my_ Commander . Don’t think I won’t electrify your armour, cousin. ”

“I notice,” Cullen grumbled, “that you’re not threatening the ambassador with retribution.”

“She won fair and square, beloved.”

“It comes off!” Cullen realised Cole was staring at him in fascination. “I didn’t know it came off…”

“That’s probably where you went wrong with Candy, Kid,” Varric laughed, hauling the boy away. One by one everyone left the table—Dorian being dragged protesting by Bull—until only Cullen and Saibra were left. As she passed, Josie scooped up Cullen’s clothes, smiling in triumph. He thought his humiliation was over until Sera crawled out from under the table.

“Whozat?” she muttered, eyes glazed. “Did I win?”

He stood and ran.


	33. What A Girl Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen can't help but do what a pretty girl asks of him, especially if she's a Trevelyan...

It was a split-second decision for Cullen to head for his office rather than Saibra’s tower. He took the stairs to the top floor of the tavern two at a time, using the door up there to get onto the battlements. From there it was a simple dash through the two towers still under repair before he came to the one containing his rooms. 

Hoping Saibra would follow him before too long, Cullen didn’t bother locking the doors before bolting up the ladder. It took longer than he had expected before he heard one of the doors creak open. He had managed to find a pair of sleeping trews and was sat on the bed combing the wax out of his hair.

“Cullen?” Saibra’s voice was tentative but still managed to hold a hint of the mirth she had been unable to hide in the tavern.

“Up here,” he replied sulkily. He watched her head emerge at the top of the ladder, trying hard not to smirk at him. “What took you so long?” 

“I went to see Josephine.” She settled next to him on the bed, head on his shoulder. She smelled of crystal grace and wine, and it didn’t escape him that she had been swaying on her feet as she crossed the room. She had drunk more than he realised. “She’ll give you your armour back in the morning.”

“Why do I think I’m going to have to pay for this?” Cullen groaned.

“Because you are,” Saibra’s giggle was one of the most adorable things about her. He found he couldn’t continue pretending to sulk and wrapped one arm around her. “You have to go to two of her ‘interludes’ while I’m in the Emprise.”

Now he really was annoyed. “Not those ridiculous tea parties of hers! Maker’s breath!”

“It could be worse. She originally wanted five. I convinced her that Vastra would do the other three while you watched Marie and Kitty.” She grinned at him. 

“My hero,” he murmured, drawing Saibra into a long slow kiss. 

………………………………………… 

Cullen was reading over Cassandra and Saibra’s latest reports and letters from the Emprise du Lion anxiously. As always, he compared them to see if Saibra was hiding anything—injuries, illness, nightmares or other traumas—that Cassandra may be more forthcoming about, though she was unlikely to comment on anything that didn’t need to be officially reported.

They had been gone for a fortnight, and Cullen found he missed her more and more each passing day. And the more he missed her, the more he worried for her. The reports were concerning. Both Saibra and Cassandra reported that the extensive presence of raw red lyrium, more pervasive than they’d seen anywhere else, was having a draining effect on all the mages in the party. In Saibra’s most recent letter, she admitted to constantly feeling exhausted, and it was getting harder and harder to motivate herself to get up every morning. Cassandra reported observing the same thing in all the mages, and it was causing more arguments in camp than normal. And it was in that fraught state they would be trying to retake Suledin Keep from a demon right about now.

Cullen was just calculating how many more troops he could afford to dispatch to aid in the efforts to destroy the red lyrium deposits when he heard the angry shriek from outside. He was on his feet and halfway to the door when he realised what he had heard.

“No!” Kitty’s shriek was ear-splitting. “I wanna see Uncle Cully!”

He paused long enough to hear Marie’s pleading response.

“We can’t, Kitty! Mama said if she caught us in his office again she won’t let me play chess with him.”

“No Mama! Want Uncle Cully!”

“Please be quiet Kitty! We don’t want Nettie to find us!”

Barely containing the grin of pride that the shy toddler had finally warmed up to him, Cullen opened his office door. Kitty was right at the door reaching up, obviously trying and failing to reach the doorknob. Marie stood a few feet away, wringing her hands and looking so like her aunt when she was worried.

Cullen raised an eyebrow at the girls. “You’d better come in if you don’t want people knowing where you are.” Marie flushed but hurried past him. Kitty just stood there raising her arms.

“Up, please, Uncle Cully,” she demanded.

With a sigh he bent to pick up the little girl, kicking the door shut behind him. At least she had asked nicely. He carried her over to Saibra’s couch where Marie had already settled herself, swinging her legs and looking like she was about to get in trouble. He sat next to her, letting Kitty settle herself on his lap. The younger child seemed content enough to simply pet the fur of his collar. “Now why are you hiding from Nettie?”

Nettie was the young woman Josephine and Vastra had hired to tutor Marie and nanny for both her and Kitty. A wealthy merchant’s daughter whose Templar betrothed was part of his army, the girls were both fond of her, and it had been past time Marie began the lessons she would need if she was to inherit Ostwick one day.

Marie’s face flushed as red as her hair. “We snuck out of lessons.” Cullen raised his eyebrow at the child, waiting for more. “Kitty wanted to see if Krem was back yet, and she got mad when he wasn’t.”

Of course, Krem would be Kitty’s first choice of adult companion. Cullen wasn’t sure which drew the child more to the rough mercenary— the intriguing fact that Krem was both a boy and a girl at the same time, or the stuffed nugs he had made the girls. Kitty carried hers, a plaidweave monstrosity named Buddy, everywhere. Though now he thought of it, she didn’t have it with her now. “Kitty, where’s Buddy?” he asked, cautiously.

He regretted it as soon he opened his mouth. Kitty began to sob uncontrollably, clinging to his neck tight enough to strangle him. Carefully, he adjusted her grip and began to rock her. It was something he remembered his father doing for Rosalie when she was Kitty’s age. Helplessly, he looked to Marie for an explanation.

“Nettie took us for a walk on the battlements this morning, and Kitty dropped Buddy off the side. Nettie told her that she wouldn’t get him back from there, and she’d have to wait for Krem to come back and make her a new one.”

That set off a new wave of wails from Kitty. “Don’ want new nug. Want Buddy!”

“I thought maybe Krem wouldn’t mind too much going to look for Buddy, if he was back.”

Cullen sighed. “The weather has been bad at the pass. We got a raven last night to say the Chargers wouldn’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.” An idea suddenly struck him. “Marie, do you know exactly where you were when Buddy… fell?” The girl nodded fiercely, hope dawning in her eyes. 

It was a careful balancing act, holding the sobbing toddler securely with one arm while going through the map scrolls on his desk with the other. After discarding half a dozen, Marie helping when he found it too difficult to unroll them with one hand, he found the one he was looking for and, kneeling, spread it on the floor. “Can you spot the place on here?” he asked the older child.

Marie studied the map of Skyhold and its surrounding area carefully. “There,” she finally pointed. “Between the Tavern and the Mage’s tower.”

Cullen nodded. “Can you lay this out on my desk for me? I’ll just be a moment.” Rising, he went to the door. As usual Jim was standing waiting for orders and jumped to attention the moment Cullen appeared, trying not to stare at the bawling child clinging to his neck like a limpet. There were times he regretted that the scout Leliana had assigned him as his runner was terrified of him. This was not one of them. Any of his other men would question what he was about to make Jim do. 

“Come in Jim. I have an important job for you. ” He ushered the lad into the office. Marie was standing at his desk, eyeing his other maps. The one he wanted was spread neatly over the desk, held in place with his inkwell and a few books. Beckoning Jim over, Cullen indicated to the place Marie had shown him on the map. “I need you to go out and scour this area. You’re looking for a stuffed plaidweave nug.”

“Ser?” Jim asked hesitantly at the same time Kitty whimpered a tentative “Buddy?” in his ear.

“You heard me, Jim. And you won’t come back until you’ve found it. Or do you want to explain to the Inquisitor why her niece is missing her favourite toy?”

Jim’s eyes widened. “No, Ser! I’ll do it, Ser. Right away, Ser…” He dashed from the room. _That worked well_ , Cullen smiled to himself. He’d need to remember that Jim was as scared of angering Saibra as he was of his Commander. 

He set Kitty down on the floor and pried her arms from his neck. “Jim will rescue Buddy, I promise. Do you want to play with my chess men while we wait for him?” The little girl nodded solemnly, and he retrieved his chess set from the box on top of the bookshelf. As he passed, he noticed Marie had unrolled one of his other maps and was studying it intently. After giving the wooden chess pieces to the younger girl, he returned to where the older was squinting at a map of Ferelden, holding it open as widely as she could.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, taking the map from her and spreading it on the floor so she could see it more easily.

“Auntie Sai told us she met Bull and Krem in Ferelden. And she fought a dragon. And she and Dorian went to Redcliffe castle. And you come from somewhere on here. I’m trying to find all of those places. But it’s so big!”

“Why don’t I show you?” Cullen asked with a smile. “We could trace the journey you made from the Storm Coast to Skyhold on this map.”

“We can?” her eyes were wide. “Papa loved maps. He had loads of them. He always said he’d teach me about all the places on them when I was bigger…” Her eyes began to look distinctly watery. The little girl rarely spoke of her father, but from what Saibra said, Marie had worshipped Domart. 

“Yes. The port you came into was here… Your Aunt had to free it from some Red Templars that had taken it over…”

When a runner came in to tell him Vastra was frantic that her daughters had vanished, he had a note ready to be delivered.

_My lady,_

_Marie and Kitty are with me. With your permission, I would like to give Marie geography and history lessons every other day. She is a good student, and I enjoy her company. Saibra would tell you the distraction is good for me._

_Commander Rutherford_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my one-shot [An Abyss of His Fears](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7396105) is now a three-parter. It seems Cullen and Sai just won't give me peace if they think I've missed something. I'd love it if you could check it out and let me know what you think.


	34. Old Scars Never Heal Cleanly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scars left by the Templars and Adamant continue to cause pain...

The words on the pages before Cullen twisted and blurred, and he was unable to hide the anguish he felt at seeing them. “Samson is making red lyrium from people?”

Saibra moved around the desk and began soothingly rubbing circles into the back of his neck. “Not anymore,” she promised. “Not in that mine.”

“How bad was it?” he asked. Maker, it was bad enough to read about what his former colleague had been doing at Sahrnia Quarry. What must it have been like to see it?

Saibra sighed heavily. “It wasn’t pretty,” she admitted. “Between that and the prolonged exposure to red lyrium, we’ll all need some time to recover.”

Cullen turned to stare out the window. He had come to find the sight of the mountains beyond Skyhold comforting. “I knew Samson had fallen but this? It’s monstrous. We have to put an end to him.”

Saibra curled into his side, and he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair. “We will, I promise.”

“Judging by the orders from the encampment, that armour must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him.”

Saibra whirled in his arms, glaring up at him. “Take away his armour and the lyrium and Samson’s just another man. I can deal with a man.”

“But I have no idea how.” Cullen rubbed his temples, feeling another headache coming on. Saibra raised her fingers and quirked an eyebrow questioningly. She smiled at his nod, and her cool fingers offered instant relief. Why had he resisted this for so long? “As Templars, we’re trained not to destroy expensive magical equipment.”

“So are mages. The Senior Enchanters were terrifying if we broke their stuff. I’ll ask Dagna if she has any ideas. She’s always blowing up her own magical equipment. Oh, fair warning ,” Saibra added, drawing her fingers away and smiling at him. “I think she and Sera have gotten together. Sera’s taken to calling her Widdle.”

“Maker help us all,” Cullen smiled back. “Are you trying to undo all the good work you just did?” That earned him a giggle and another kiss.

………………………………………… 

Saibra was just stepping out of her bath when Cullen came up to her rooms for the night. She wished he would just move in with her, as she’d asked, but he insisted on keeping that wretched room above his office for when she wasn’t at Skyhold. She hadn’t even convinced him to get the hole in the roof fixed! 

As always, she enjoyed the way he flushed when he unexpectedly saw her naked. Her timing tonight was impeccable. Discarding her drying cloth on the floor, she sauntered up to him for a kiss. He returned it with a fervour she was delighted to know she could inspire in him.

“Armour off, beloved,” she murmured against his lips. He groaned beautifully but stepped back to begin the work of transforming from her Commander into her Cullen. By now, they had undressed together enough that she could have helped him if she chose. Tonight she was content to watch from the bed , propped up against the pillows as she waited. Eager as he was, Cullen was neat and methodical , placing each piece precisely on the armour stand and folding his breeches and shirt carefully. “Hurry up, love,” she moaned. 

He quirked a crooked smile at her. “Am I not worth the wait?” She smiled back. In the months they had been together, his sense of humour had blossomed. He would never have joked with her like that the day they had first kissed.

Their lovemaking was passionate and hot. It always was the first night she was back from a mission. Cullen knew all the places to touch her. He knew that running a fingernail along her left side would make her shudder in pleasure. He knew exactly the spot on her neck where a kiss would make her throw back her head and moan his name. He knew the way her nails dug into his shoulder blades when she was close. And his thumb knew the exact pressure and rhythm to use on her clit to send her screaming over the edge, tightening round his cock to pull him with her.

“Cullen?” she asked softly as they lay listening to the crackling of the fire in the hearth afterwards. This was where she felt happiest, safest, in his arms with her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Mmm?” The response was sleepy, relaxed. Saibra hated to disturb him when he was this contented. Maybe now wasn’t the time for this. But if she waited for morning, he would be the Commander again. There would be a million and one things requiring his attention, and she wouldn’t want to take him away from that.

She pulled up her courage. “How’s the scar looking? On the back of my leg?”

His breath caught slightly and for a fraction of a second his arms tightened around her. “It’s fine, sweetheart. Nearly healed.”

“You are a _terrible_ liar, Cullen ,” Saibra sighed. She propped herself up on one elbow to look down at him. Cullen frowned up at her, but he had the sense not to argue. “It hasn’t stopped pulling. Or itching. It should have by now.”

“Have you asked Solas or Vivienne? What does your own magic say?” He pulled himself up to sit with her , worry plain in his eyes .

“There’s no infection,” she began, ticking things off on her fingers. “There’s no debris under the skin. The poison was all burned away by the fever. I didn’t overdo it and reopen the wound at all.” She knew she couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes. “Solas and Viv don’t really know either. And trust me, they were thorough. Vivienne wanted to be sure it wasn’t ‘substandard healing’ because ‘all the best healers are Circle trained, darling’.” 

Cullen grimaced at her terrible impression of Madame Vivienne . “Did they have any suggestions at all?” he asked. 

“Solas’ best guess was that it has something to do with me being physically in the Fade when I was injured. He thought it might just take more time.” She moved closer to him, nudging him to put his arms around her and lay back down. “He wanted me to keep an eye on it, tell him how it’s doing. But since I can’t actually see it…”

“It’s a job for me,” Cullen sighed. “I only caught a glimpse of it tonight, but it really did look a little less raw. Still fairly inflamed, but more dark pink than red now.”

Saibra smiled softly, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “Short trips for a little while I think,” she promised. “I spoke to Dagna, and she needs to locate some books to help her find a weakness in Samson’s armour. That gives us time to investigate Bianca’s lead for Varric and Caer Oswin for Cassandra. Shouldn’t take more than a few days each.” 

“Good,” Cullen grumbled. “I think I need to keep an eye on you, Inquisitor.”

“At least,” she grinned, one hand snaking down towards his thigh. “Who knows what mischief I could get up to on my own? ”

Cullen’s only response was to flip her on her back, mouth crashing down on hers. Yes, this was definitely home.


	35. Broken Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra's friends are already having a hard time when Cullen asks a difficult question...

The next morning, Saibra announced her intentions to the rest of the War Council. She would take a small team of Varric, Cassandra, Blackwall, Iron Bull and Solas with Bianca Davri to the Hinterlands to follow up on her lead about the initial red lyrium source. Despite Cullen’s urging, she would not tell them about her leg. She was happy to use the excuse of Dagna’s need for time. “We all agree that at the moment Samson is the greatest threat. We are providing Dagna with all the resources we can muster?” 

Josephine inclined her head. “Her requests can be a little strange but, with the right investment, nothing is beyond our reach. At your order, she shall have whatever she asks for.”

“It would be best,” Leliana added, “if we don’t tell her that. Or Sera.”

“I agree,” Cullen scrubbed his hand across his face. “Maker’s breath, those two could bring the keep down around our ears.” 

“Fine. Then all she needs is time. If we’re lucky, Bianca’s lead will give us more information for Dagna to use. At worst we cut off Samson’s access to another supply of red lyrium. Does anyone have anything else?”

“There was one thing.” Leliana’s voice held a twitch of mirth that Cullen distinctly didn’t like. “Commander, what’s this I hear about the scout I assigned to you being sent on a stuffed nug hunt outside Skyhold’s walls?”

Cullen’s face went beet red and his hand shot involuntarily to the back of his neck. Saibra’s jaw dropped open before morphing into a wicked grin. “Cullen, you didn’t!”

He glared at Leliana. “I think you need to recruit Catalina as one of your interrogators,” he huffed. “I challenge anyone not to do what that child wants when she’s hanging round your neck sobbing like her heart will break.”

“You do realise,” Saibra asked around fits of giggles, “that now she knows she can run to you and you’ll get him back Buddy will be jumping off walls all over Skyhold? Nettie would have taken the girls looking for it later that day. Seeing how difficult it was to reach him might have made her think twice about doing it again.”

Cullen summoned as much dignity as he could. “I think I’ve saved myself from that fate. Kitty credits Jim entirely. She spends the whole of Marie’s lessons with me asking him questions and begging him to carry her around.”

“Why is it always poor Jim?” Josephine asked, failing to stifle her laughter. “Are you ever going to stop punishing the man for… interrupting you?”

“I’m not punishing him!” Cullen argued defensively. “Though for one of Leliana’s scouts he is remarkably unobservant.” 

“Still,” Saibra was calming now, though she couldn’t wipe the grin from her face, “Jim does deserve a break. I’ll speak to Vastra and Nettie about finding something else for Kitty to do while Marie is with Cullen. Leliana… try and teach Jim about reading a situation?”

Leliana nodded. They granted Cullen the courtesy of allowing him to leave the room before they all burst out laughing again. 

………………………………………… 

For once it was Saibra pacing his office like a caged animal. He had heard it all already last night when she and her team had returned from the Hinterlands without Bianca. He had never seen her so angry, spitting fury like a wildcat. Knowing it could only help, and she could never let her guard down so frequently with anyone else, he let her rage at him.

“Varric now blames himself for the whole red Templar debacle.” She thundered. “If he hadn’t told that... that _bitch_ where he and Bartrand found that Thaig, she wouldn’t have given it to them. How could he know the woman he loved was a traitorous pile of druffalo dung? Andraste preserve us! Cassandra had to be restrained by Blackwall and Iron Bull to stop her killing the lyrium-addled reject of the stone. Varric’s likely to drink the Herald’s Rest dry before he comes up for air.”

He pulled her into his arms as she passed. She didn’t struggle, resting her cheek on his breastplate. “At least we’ve cut off their access to the Thaig. No red lyrium, no allies, and soon Samson will have no armour, I hope.”

Saibra pulled back to look up at him. “You hope?”

This was why he had asked her to meet with him. Dagna’s latest progress report lay on his desk. “Dagna’s started work on her red lyrium samples. She needs more details on the armour. I’ve been looking over the orders you found in Sahrnia. They mention Maddox, a name I did not expect to hear.”

Saibra touched his arm. Her anger was gone now, replaced by concern for him. “Did he serve with you and Samson in Kirkwall?” she asked softly.

It was Cullen’s turn to pace. “Maddox was a mage in Kirkwall’s Circle. Samson smuggled letters between him and his sweetheart. Eventually Samson was caught. That’s why he was cast out of the Order. Maddox was made Tranquil,” he heard Saibra’s breath catch but didn’t stop, “and became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have… rescued him.”

“I can’t believe they made him Tranquil for a few love letters,” Saibra murmured softly. The pain in her eyes made it difficult for him to look at her.

“The official charge was ‘corrupting the moral integrity of a Templar’,” he admitted. “Knight Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offences, believe me.” 

Saibra had heard the rumours about Kirkwall, about the brutality and ill-treatment meted out against the mages with the Knight Commander’s full approval. But to hear it from Cullen–her Cullen–was more difficult than she’d imagined. She tried to turn the conversation again. “Why would Maddox need Samson to ‘save’ him?”

“When the mages rebelled at Kirkwall the worst battles took place at the Gallows, in the Circle itself. Much like Ostwick, from what you’ve told me.” His voice softened. “I thought Maddox had died in the fighting, or was eking out a living on the streets. A hard fate for a Tranquil in Kirkwall.” The bitterness was back. “Samson must have found him, taken him in.”

“Having an inside man amongst Samson’s forces would be invaluable,” Saibra mused. “If we could convince him…”

“I couldn’t say,” Cullen hedged. “We’ve both lived around Tranquil most of our lives. I’ve never understood them. Do you?”

Saibra shook her head sadly. She thought back to what she remembered of the letters she had retrieved from Sahrnia’s quarry. “Samson’s letter said something about ‘taking over as the vessel’?” 

“Perhaps it’s a rank among the red Templars?” he suggested. “It could be a title from ancient Tevinter? Or it’s some other role in Corypheus’ plan for Samson, and Maddox is part of it. It seems Maddox built Samson’s armour for him and maintains it still. The Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments–supplies we could trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Samson’s armour might lead us right to his stronghold.”

“Okay then. I’ll ask Dorian if there’s any significance to the title ‘Vessel’ in Tevinter lore. You craft a plan for tracing Maddox’s equipment. Bring it to the Council tomorrow. We can discuss Cassandra and I going to Caer Oswin too. In the meantime, my shouting at you must have caused a bear of a headache. And you slept badly last night. Can I help?”

Cullen hesitated. Saibra had slept no better than he had and must be exhausted herself. But he had promised he would let her help. Would allowing her the comfort of healing him be worth the cost to her magic? Then he saw the worry in her eyes. She would be at Skyhold for a few days, plenty of time to rest and recover where he could keep an eye on her. “I would appreciate it, sweetheart. Very much.”

Her smile, bright as the dawn, made it all worthwhile.

And his peace was shattered when she asked. “Why is your training dummy buzzing?” 

………………………………………… 

“Fuck that fucking _bastard_!” It worried him that he was becoming used to these outbursts of Saibra’s. “That pathetic piece of nug shit hands his men and women over to be tortured and killed. And he wanted Cassandra to _thank him_? He actually thought she would _agree_ with him. Fucking shit. Vishante Kaffas! Fenedhis!” Saibra was a naturally quiet woman, only driven to curse when agitated. The fact that she was in his office cursing in every language she knew was a very bad sign. 

She seemed to have worn out her temper and dropped bonelessly to his couch. “Give me some good news, beloved?” She asked softly. “I can’t bear any more bad.”

Besides Saibra, there was only one thing Cullen had been able to concentrate on for weeks. “We tracked Samson’s supply caravan to a hidden location in the wilderness. We have him, my love.”

“Thank the Maker,” she murmured. “I know how much this has meant to you. I’ll leave as soon as I’m rested up.”

Cullen crouched next to her. Distressed as she already was, he was unsure how she would react to his next request. “My duties usually keep me here, but for this I’d like to make an exception. I want to be a part of your team on this, Saibra.”

“Oh, Cullen!” Watery eyes met his as her hand reached up to trace his cheek. He could see her fighting down her distress, her fear. “There will be red lyrium there. A lot of it. I don’t think…” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “You promised me you’d stay away from it, Cullen.”

“I know.” The conflict in his heart made his voice come out as a gravelly mutter. “I’m sorry. You could forbid me. As Inquisitor you have that power.”

“How could I do that to you?” Saibra sounded as torn as he was. “You would hate me for it.” 

Cullen pulled her into his arms. He and Cassandra had once spoken about the conflict between Saibra’s duty to the Inquisition and her love for him. He had never actually seen it come to pass before. He wished it wasn’t at his instigation. “I cannot say I wouldn’t be… angry. But I wouldn’t hate you, sweetling,” he promised roughly. “I could never hate you.” 

“Not at first.” Her words were muffled by his shoulder. “But you would resent it, and it would fester, and eventually it would break us.” She looked up at him, sapphire eyes wide and desperate. “Take it back?” she asked softly. “Please, Cullen, take it back.” 

“I can’t. I know I’m being selfish and unfair to you, but I just… I can’t. I need this, Saibra.” 

She clung to him, sobbing much as Kitty had done. Only this time he couldn’t send Jim to make it better. The storm of tears lasted long moments as he held her and rocked her and whispered, “I’m sorry,” into her ear over and over again.

When she finally calmed, there was a jut to her chin and a determination in her eyes that froze him. This wasn’t his sweet, gentle Sai looking back at him. This was the face of the Inquisitor as she faced demons and handed down judgement from on high. She pushed him away, holding him at arm’s length. “There have to be rules.”

“Of course,” he agreed. Anything to please her. 

“You have to do what Cassandra and I say. As Inquisitor, I am your Commander and in this one thing–for this one mission–she will be your superior.” 

It made sense. Cassandra was the one he had asked to watch over him in his withdrawals. Saibra trusted her as much as he did, relied on her guidance in the field. “I agree.” 

“Maker help me Cullen, you so much as hesitate while we’re out there, and I’ll have Bull knock you out and drag you away. Are we clear?” He nodded and she stood. “I’m not angry, beloved. Maker knows, I do understand why you’re asking this. But you have to know what you’re asking of me. I need some time. I’ll see you tonight.”

She fled his office before he could reply. Dorian would complain that she was ruining the expensive silk of his robes. But she needed a good cry. And he knew where the best wine was hidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation Cullen mentions he had with Cassandra takes place in [An Abyss of His Fears](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7396105). You don't need to read it, but I'd love the feedback.


	36. Dawn Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Saibra finally reach the Shrine of Dumat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my wonderful beta [shadowpyxy_pyxydust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowpyxy_pyxydust/pseuds/shadowpyxy_pyxydust). She had a _lot_ of work to do on this one.

The journey to the Shrine of Dumat was strained. Everyone seemed to understand that, even if Cullen and Saibra hadn’t actually argued, things were not quite right between them. Saibra had sobbed her heart out to Dorian about Cullen’s broken promises–though he had promised not to tell Bull . Cassandra was also well aware of the problem; Cullen had been present in the meeting when Saibra had informed the Seeker of her role in ‘supervising the Commander’ on this mission. 

“What are you thinking? Are you thinking at all?” she had demanded of him after Saibra had left for a meeting with Josephine and some visiting Orlesian dignitaries. “You do remember our conversation after the Battle of Adamant?” she carried on without giving him time to answer.

“Of course I remember,” Cullen snapped back. “We discussed it when Saibra woke. I told her I would avoid red lyrium where possible.”

“ _Where possible_? Are you saying it is necessary for you to come on this mission? That we will fail without your illustrious presence? That this has nothing to do with your obsession with Samson?”

Cullen tried not to consider the fact that her words only stung because she was right. “I told Saibra I would understand if she said I could not come.”

Cassandra gave one of her famous disgusted snorts. “No you wouldn’t. And the Inquisitor knows it, or she would be arranging for Bull to help her knock you out and tie you up to keep you here .” She threw her hands up in the air. “I am your friend, Cullen, but you are being an idiot . You may just be destroying the best thing you ever had. On your own head be it.” 

So they had travelled in near silence letting their companions try and keep the mood light though even they seemed subdued. Cullen understood Cassandra’s black mood was because of him. But Blackwall had been even more taciturn than usual, telling them a nasty story about him letting a dog be beaten to death when he was a child . When the Warden refused to let Sera drag him into needling Solas, she had a strop and became more unbearable than usual. Solas and Vivienne both had a go at her and seemed disgusted at the fact that they agreed on anything. Varric was still brooding over Bianca and drank more than normal in the evenings before retiring early to his tent . While Cole was more human now, he was still abnormally empathetic and the strained atmosphere seemed to be getting to him. Only Dorian and Bull seemed themselves, and their raunchy flirting and bickering was sometimes the only conversation for hours. 

So it was a relief after three nights to be standing at the entrance to the Shrine’s courtyard. Cullen felt as hyped up as he had before his first battle. “This is it,” he muttered to the group at large. “The heart of Samson’s command.” 

Saibra peered around from their limited vantage point. “I don’t see him anywhere. Or hear him.”

“Nor I.” He could feel the rage building inside him . “Maker, tell me he hasn’t fled.”

It was clear they were expected. Maybe Samson’s scouts had spotted them, or maybe he had a spy. It didn’t matter. The outside of the Shrine was dotted with small fires and resistance wasn’t nearly as heavy as they had anticipated . 

In a way, that gave Cullen more leeway to watch Saibra fight. She had handled her staff well during their training sessions at Haven. In the time since then, she had evolved, both as a battlemage and a staff fighter. He was proud of her. 

His head was pounding, and the low fever of withdrawal–the fever he had gotten over months ago–had returned. He knew his own fighting was sloppier than normal, and he could feel Cassandra’s eyes on him more than once. He could hear the discordant song of the nearby red lyrium coming from inside the Temple. 

When they finally reached the entrance to the Temple, Saibra stopped him. “This place is already half destroyed,” she told him quietly. “Samson will be long gone. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay out here and keep watch with Blackwall.” A small part of him was grateful for her famous tact. Blackwall wouldn’t want to chatter or look at him sideways to make sure the lyrium wasn’t affecting him. But a greater part was annoyed that she thought he wouldn’t want to see this through. 

“I’m coming with you,” he insisted. She sighed and gave him a sad smile, before her face hardened back into that of the Inquisitor. She nodded to Cassandra, who flanked him without question. So he was to be watched. Fine.

“Samson must have ordered his Templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn’t,” he spat when they entered and saw the devastation inside. More fires burned and furniture had been tipped. Papers were torn and burning in every corner.

“It appears he has fled, Commander,” Solas replied lightly.

Varric sighed. “Sorry, Curly. Someone tipped off Samson you were coming.”

Cullen took a deep breath. Cassandra was scrutinising his scowl carefully, while Saibra was pointedly not looking at him. “I think you’re right,” he replied as lightly as he could. “Still, we’ve dealt Samson a blow.” He could look on the bright side, couldn’t he? But it was harder in here. Through a walkway, behind more Templar defenders, he could see spikes of red lyrium now.

Next to Saibra, Dorian gave a shaky sigh. “Is everything alright, Kadan?” Bull asked, more gently than Cullen would have thought him capable of a few months ago.

“High concentration of red lyrium,” Dorian muttered, though the whole group could hear him. “Makes my head ache.” He gave a slightly wobbly grin. “It’s terrible. Only blonde former Templars suit frown lines.”

Normally Cullen would have rolled his eyes at Dorian’s poor attempt at flirting, but his friend had just reminded him of something that made his blood run cold: mages were as badly affected by red lyrium as he was. How could he have forgotten the reports from Cassandra of the mages’ illness and poor temper in Sahrnia? Or Saibra’s troubling letter where she confessed that she had been so drained that she had fallen asleep on Solace three times in one day? Sure enough, Solas was looking green around the ears, and Vivienne’s movements as she examined the Temple around them were stilted and brittle. 

It was Saibra who worried him most. Her skin was normally pale, especially compared to her rich chestnut hair, but now it was chalk white. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as if she was trying not to throw up, and there were deep dark circles under her eyes which had lost their normal sparkle. Maker, he was a fool. This would have been a difficult enough mission, but he had brought himself along to be an extra burden. They still shared a tent, and he knew her sleep had been restless. He had not been the only one suffering from nightmares.

“Let us get this over with as quickly as possible then.” Cassandra’s sharp comment echoed his own thoughts.

And then another fight. Another two rooms of his former colleagues to kill. As they moved towards, then past the red lyrium, he could feel his rage growing and his control slipping. By the time they found Maddox at the back of the Temple, Saibra trailing exhausted at his side, even he had to admit that this had been a very bad idea. 

“Hello, Inquisitor.” Though he was curled up in obvious pain, Maddox’s tone was as mild and conversational as any Tranquil.

Saibra’s eyes widened as she crouched next to Cullen’s former charge. “You know me?”

“Something’s wrong.” Cullen tried to keep his voice as soft as possible. “I’ll send for Madame Vivienne and Solas-“

“That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen.” It felt like a blow to be called that again by someone he should have protected. “I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.”

Saibra’s eyes were sparkling again, this time with unshed tears. “We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox.”

The Tranquil nodded sadly. “Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

He couldn’t keep the rage from his voice anymore. “You threw your lives away? For Samson? Why?”

Though Saibra flinched at his tone Maddox didn’t. “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.” His voice started to falter. “I… wanted to help…” Maddox’s head nodded, then sank. 

Saibra reached out with a shaking hand to close his eyes. “Rest with the Maker now, Maddox. Be at peace.”

She allowed Cullen to draw her up. “We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something.” He knew his own voice was thick with emotion. He had failed Maddox. If he had been there, helped him after the Kirkwall Circle fell, Maddox wouldn’t have fallen in with Samson, wouldn’t now be dead. How many more Tranquil had he failed? How many undeserving mages had he allowed to become defenceless Tranquil under Meredith’s despotic regime? “A dismal place to die. It can’t have been much of a place to live, either, under Samson’s command.” 

………………………………………… 

He had hovered between rage and guilt while they searched the Shrine. In the end the only sign of Samson had been empty lyrium bottles and a cryptic note to Cullen himself. Saibra had been the one to find Maddox’s tools and Solas the one to theorise that Dagna could use them to reverse-engineer Samson’s armour and a way to destroy it. But there were no clues as to where Samson or Corypheus would be heading next.

They rode further and later than they otherwise would have trying to outrun the effects of the poisoned lyrium. Cassandra had sent a raven to Leliana, asking for non-mage or Templar recruits to come and destroy the remaining red lyrium. They could have done it themselves, but they all agreed to leave after Vivienne began vomiting.

He and Saibra didn’t talk until they were preparing for bed in their tent that night. “What else do you remember about Samson?” she asked. She was trying to unpin her hair, but even with her back to him he could tell she was still suffering. Her fingers were trembling so badly that she kept dropping pins or missing them and pulling at locks of her hair. “The man he used to be?”

“May I?” Cullen asked behind her. She nodded, and he began slowly removing the remaining pins, laying them carefully in the tin she stored them in. “Does it matter who Samson used to be? ‘He used to be kind’ only carries so far.” She didn’t answer, instead relaxing into his touch. His own thoughts filled the gap. “Yet Maddox died to help him escape. Samson does command loyalty.” He sighed. “It was all smoke and ash. If this is Samson’s idea of remaking the world, I prefer yours.” 

She gave him a tired smile. “I do too.” She thought for a moment. “I’m glad we buried Maddox.”

“As am I,” he agreed. “If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less.” He watched Saibra settle into their shared camp bed. She insisted on a raised bed after waking one morning in Crestwood to find a snake sharing her bedroll. Tentatively he crouched next to it and reached out to stroke her hair. “You were right, sweetling. I shouldn’t have come. I feel terrible, and it will take weeks to feel as well as I have been . I’m sorry.”

“I couldn’t have stopped you if I tried.” Her eyes were intense in the dim candlelight. “But promise you won’t do this to me again?”

“I swear it. I swear I will only come into the field to lead the army or at your command. I won’t continue to chase Samson. That fight is yours now.”

It was the first genuine smile he had seen from her since he first asked to come. It lit up the room like the dawn after a long night. “I love you, Cullen.” She shifted over and patted the space next to her. “Come to bed beloved.”


	37. Just Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen frightens Saibra and himself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _WARNING: This chapter is not pretty._

Saibra woke instantly, fighting for air. It took her only a fraction of a second to realise that this wasn’t a dream. Cullen was leaning over her with one large hand wrapped around her throat.

“You can’t have her! I won’t let you have her!” he shouted. His eyes were wide and unseeing. She might not be dreaming, but he was. 

Later, she couldn’t have told anyone how she was able to think clearly. How she managed not to panic. But her mind made a quick tactical assessment. He only had his right hand around her throat. He was using his left to hold himself up. The edge of the bed was to her left. Mustering all her strength as blackness began to seep into the edge of her vision, she twisted. Her roll took her left off her bed and to her feet in a single movement, lightning sparking between her fingers.

The movement unbalanced Cullen and he collapsed face first onto the bed. He looked up at her, confusion, then realisation, then horror all flitting across his face. “Saibra!”

“Commander? Inquisitor?” Cassandra was at their tent flap, voice concerned. 

Saibra opened her mouth to speak, but only managed a choked rattle. It was enough for the Seeker to enter. She took in the scene with a scowl. Cullen was attempting to scramble to his feet, dishevelled and frantic, while Saibra stood frozen with one hand to her throat and lightning in the other. It was obvious what had happened.

Cassandra stuck her head out of the tent. “Back to bed, all of you.” That statement from anyone else might have provoked questions, but Saibra’s companions had long since learned not to question orders from the Right Hand of the Divine. 

Pulling herself fully back in Cassandra approached Saibra slowly. “Inquisitor? I need you to pull back your magic.”

Saibra looked at her with wide eyes, before closing her hand into a fist, extinguishing the electricity in her hand. Cassandra guided her down onto a stool and pulled away the hand around her throat. Even from his position by the bed, Cullen could see his finger-marks forming dark bruises on her pale skin. 

“Are you all right, Saibra?” Cullen had never heard Cassandra’s voice so gentle. Saibra nodded. Her eyes were still wide, but her breathing had slowed. “Can you speak?” 

“Yes.” It was almost a lie, the word a quiet croak more than real speech.

“Can you heal it?”

Saibra lifted a hand to her throat. But her hands shook convulsively, and the blue glow of her healing magic sputtered and died almost before it had begun. Tears welled in her eyes, and Cullen felt his heart shatter. He had done this to her.

“Cullen go and get Vivienne.”

The words were barely out Cassandra’s mouth when Saibra rasped out an insistent “No!” Her friend and her lover froze, looking at her. “Dorian,” she insisted as firmly as she was able.

“Sweetheart, Dorian isn’t a heal-“

“Dorian,” she cut him off. With a sigh she stood and moved to her travel desk. Grabbing a quill and a scrap of parchment she scrawled a note and handed it to Cassandra. The Seeker read it before handing it to Cullen.

_Viv may use this info later. Dor is our friend. Will do enough to ease worst. I will do rest in morn._

Cullen looked away. “I am willing to suffer Madame de Fer’s censure,” he choked out. “I deserve it.”

Saibra wrenched his chin up towards her. There was a fire in her eyes that burned him with its intensity. “No.” She mouthed. “It was a dream. It was the lyrium.”

Cullen opened his mouth to argue and had her palm firmly slapped across his mouth. Twisting awkwardly, she pointed at Cassandra then the flap mouthing “Dorian”. Cassandra raised her eyebrows but did as commanded.

As soon as she was gone, Saibra pulled her hand away from Cullen’s mouth and replaced it with her lips. She poured every bit of forgiveness and understanding she could into the kiss before pulling away. “I love you,” she whispered, blinking away tears.

Cullen bent his head, still unable to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should never have come here. I’m sorry.”

There was no time for more when Cassandra stomped back in followed by a complaining Dorian.

“Well we were both awake, and I can’t be blamed for what you see when you barge into our tent without-“ He caught sight of the marks on Saibra’s neck. “Vishante kaffas! What did you do?”

Saibra slapped her palm to the other mage’s chest. “Lyrium nightmare,” she croaked. “Heal it.” When he opened his mouth to argue, Saibra slapped his chest again. “Now!”

Cullen had never realised how fierce Saibra could be when she needed to. With him she was always gentle and soft. When he saw her as Inquisitor she was ice and control. He had never seen her as fire and anger.

Dorian glared at Cullen again before laying gentle hands on Saibra’s collarbone. Dorian’s poor brand of healing magic had a lilac tinge, and he seemed to pour everything into it. By the time he pulled away the Altus was sweating, but Saibra’s bruises were more faded. And her voice came easier when she thanked her friend.

Cullen didn’t notice that Cassandra had left the tent until she came back carrying a mug with a healing potion in it. “I added some honey,” the Seeker admitted. “It might go down a little easier.”

Saibra’s smile was genuine. “Thank you, Cass.” She drained the potion and made a face. “Still tastes bad.” She faced Dorian and the Seeker, and her voice was all business, if still a little rough. “We’ll stay here another day or two. Tell everyone the lyrium exposure has made me quite sick, and I need to rest. Cass, send a raven to Leliana informing her of the delay. And tell no one about this.”

………………………………………… 

They obeyed her commands. In the morning there was little complaint from the others about the delay. Truthfully, all the mages needed a breather after their exposure to the corrupted lyrium. Samson had needed a lot of it to get through a day, and the air in the Shrine had been thick enough with it to choke any of them. 

But Cullen suffered the most. After the others left, he had tried to convince her that he should leave, spend the rest of the night in a bedroll outside. Saibra would have none of it.

“You are sick, Cullen,” she insisted. “That you had a dream like that after being lyrium-free for so long is a bad sign. I think you’re going to get very sick, very fast.” She had smiled hopefully. “If we’re lucky, this might be the last lyrium purge.”

“But I nearly killed you!” He protested.

“Nonsense. I woke up, escaped, and I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you now.”

“But-“ 

“We’ll talk about it when you’re better.” She said calmly. And somehow she was manoeuvring him into the bed as his legs gave out. “For now you need to sleep. Rest. I’ll be here.”

She had been right. As dawn broke his fever spiked. She later told him that he had suffered three seizures through the day. All day Saibra cared for him. She dripped honey and water into his parched mouth. She kept him from falling off the bed during the seizures. She conjured ice water to cool his fevered forehead.

His fever broke at dusk, and it was full dark when he wakened. “Saibra?”

“I’m here, love. It’s all right.” She looked peaceful, sat cross-legged on the floor with a book on her knees.

“But your throat? I-“

She stood and settled herself back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s fine, Cullen. All healed.” She lifted her chin and turned her head this way and that so he could see the creamy, perfect skin of her throat. “See?”

He nodded, and she stood again, returning with a mug of water. He felt weak as a newborn kitten as she helped him sit and drink. Settling him back down again, she smiled. “You’ve been out all day. Do you have a headache?”

“Not as bad as I would expect. I can endure.” 

She quirked a smile at him. “But you’re not going to. I need to heal you to check on the lyrium in your blood. The headache will be enough.”

Cullen didn’t know why he always tensed before she laid her hands on him for healing. The healing always felt good. Her magic always made his lyrium sing pleasurably. But this time, he barely felt anything but the relief of the pounding at the back of his skull.

“It’s almost gone, isn’t it? I can barely feel your magic touching my lyrium.” He didn’t know why that made him feel so sad.

“Yes,” she smiled, drawing away her fingers. “Your next attack will be the last.”

“I still crave it,” Cullen admitted. “When I have a bad day, or before a fight, I still thirst for a philtre.”

Saibra smoothed damp curls back from his face. “You always will, beloved. That’s addiction. But the withdrawal is over. You need to know, taking any lyrium now won’t make you feel better. It would make you very ill.” She took a deep breath. “I think it would kill you. So you can’t ever come on a mission like this again. I won’t allow it.”

“I won’t ask.” He grabbed her hand, clinging to it as if it was an anchor. “If I had known, if I had even thought it would make me hurt you, I would never have asked. I’m so sorry. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but-“

“I already have, Cullen.” Her voice was soft, loving. “It wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t you. It frightened me, but I forgave you before you even knew to ask. It was the lyrium. It wasn’t my Cullen.”

It surprised him when he burst into tears, clinging to her. Awkwardly, she pulled herself further onto the bed and lifted his head onto her lap. He clung to her blindly, sobbing into her stomach as she stoked his hair and made soothing noises. He hadn’t cried this way since he was a child. It was minutes before he realised she was singing. He recognised the old Marcher lullaby, he had heard her sing it to Marie when the girl had woken from a nightmare.

_“They didn’t have you where I come from._  
Never knew the best was yet to come.  
Life began when I saw your face.  
And I hear your laugh like a serenade.” 

It soothed his troubled soul. Maybe she was only doing it to prove her throat really was undamaged, but it meant more to him even than that. He always loved to hear her sing. A few months ago, it wasn’t unusual for him to hear her singing as she got ready in the morning or undressed for bed. It was something she did when she was happy. He hadn’t heard her sing for a while.

Life as the Inquisitor seemed to have been slowly dragging her down. She was still the woman he loved, but this battle with Corypheus had sapped the energy and joy from her. He hadn’t helped. Between his refusal to let her help with his withdrawal and his obsession with Samson, he had been making her life harder when he should have been making it easier. She shouldn’t have to be strong for him. When the rest of the world took so much from her, he should be the one person to help lift that burden from her shoulders.

As his tears eased and he listened to her voice filling the tent, he made a silent promise to himself: _From now on, I will be her refuge. Saibra won’t have to worry about me again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard to write so I'm posting and running before I start work for the day. 
> 
> Extra thanks to the incredibly wonderful [shadowpyxy_pyxydust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowpyxy_pyxydust/pseuds/shadowpyxy_pyxydust) for cleaning it up, reading my ramblings about why it was hard, and sympathising. Best beta a girl could ask for.
> 
> Comments, criticism, always welcome.


	38. Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as things are settling down for Saibra and Cullen, Blackwall disappears.

_Another bloody betrayal_ , thought Cullen. The revelation that Bianca Davri had led the red Templars to the Thaig where Varric and his brother had first found red lyrium—the place the idol that drove Meredith insane came from—had been bad. Varric had simply been devastated.

Cullen’s nightmares had been horrendous as memories of Meredith and the final battle in Kirkwall came back to haunt him. At least he had managed to stay true to his promise and allowed Saibra to help him. He had to admit that her cool fingers taking away his headaches and her arms around him when his nightmares woke them both had made a bad time significantly easier. It also made him feel even more guilty about pushing her away before.

He had never seen Cassandra as upset as she had been when they came back from Caer Oswin. Her revelations to the council about the Rite of Tranquillity when they returned from the Shrine of Dumat had shaken him to his core, and as a mage Saibra felt little better about it. As always, Saibra had been the one to reassure and calm the distressed Seeker. She confided to him that she thought Cassandra would now remove herself from the running to be Divine—or refuse the honour if it was offered—in favour of reforming the Seekers. He wondered how much influence Saibra had over that decision. Maybe a reformed Seeker order would be better than trying to reinstate the Templars now that so much had happened to destroy the Order he had once been so proud to serve?

Then there was his own betrayal. Insisting he accompany her to the Shrine of Dumat and exposing himself to red lyrium after promising her he wouldn’t had been bad enough. Then he had tried to strangle her in his sleep. He hadn’t gotten over the guilt yet though she had forgiven him instantly. He had been doing his best to lift the burdens of being Inquisitor from her. He had brought her meals, insisted she join him for short rides down into the valleys near Skyhold, convinced Marie that she needed Auntie Sai for bedtime stories. She did seem happier and more rested. She smiled more. And she had begun to sing again.

So when Saibra came bursting into his office, frantic that Blackwall was missing and assumed to be heading to Val Royeaux, he was half expecting another betrayal. He hadn’t quite been expecting it to be such a dramatic and public display. He had pulled some strings with the guard to get her into the cells to see Black- Thom Rainier. 

“Wait here for me?” Her voice had been so soft, none but him had heard the tremor in her voice when she left him in the warden’s office.

“Always.”

After questioning them on Rainier’s history, he had cleared out the city guard. Saibra would want privacy to grieve after speaking to the man she had once called friend. Sure enough, she came barrelling out of the underground cells, rushing right past him.

“Saibra.” She whirled and threw herself into his arms. He stroked her hair and her back, soothing her as she cried. As the sobbing eased, he loosened his grip. “I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier if you want to hear it?” he asked tentatively. She nodded but she didn’t let him go. “Our friend,” he began, “was once a respected captain in the Imperial army. Before the civil war, he was persuaded to assassinate one of Celene’s biggest supporters. He told his men nothing of the true purpose of the mission. They took the fall for him. Only a few lucky ones managed to escape.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “If nothing else, at least I know the truth.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered to her hair. “We all made this mistake.” Cullen sighed deeply. “What do we do now? He has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to. We have resources, sweetheart.”

“What do you mean?” her eyes were wary.

“Josephine could use our influence with Celene to have him released to us. You may pass judgement on him yourself.”

Saibra took a step back, examining his face. “If it were up to you, what would you do?”

“What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable.” Cullen couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice. “He betrayed their trust, and then betrayed ours. I despise him for it. He’s no better than Samson.” He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. “Yet he fought as a Warden, joined the Inquisition, gave his blood for us. The moment he shakes off his past he turns around and owns up to it. Why?”

Saibra reached up and drew his forehead down to rest against hers, fingers curled lightly in his hair. “He’s not like Samson. Samson hasn’t admitted he was wrong. Black- Rainier knew as soon as it was done that he’d committed a terrible sin, and he’s spent the years since trying to atone. Some part of you is impressed by what he did, isn’t it?”

“Saving Mornet the way he did took courage,” Cullen admitted. “I’ll give him that. But I can’t tell you what to do, my love. Not on this.”

“Get him out.” Her voice was strong and decisive again. “I’ll decide what to do with him later, but unless he’s in Inquisition custody I won’t have the time to make that decision.”

………………………………………… 

Saibra looked wearily around the hall as she sat on her throne. It was always full when she had to make a judgement, but today it was unusually full. And unusually quiet. She had been dreading this all the way back from Val Royeaux. Ever since she got back, her advisors had been arguing over what to do with the man now known as Thom Rainier. Leliana was pressing for execution, pointing out that sparing him would cost them valuable goodwill with Orlais. Josephine, surprisingly, had ignored all the political implications and begged her to spare his life. At least Cullen, true to his word, had refused to press her one way or the other.

She watched as Josie uncharacteristically dragged her feet mounting the dais. She hadn’t realised her Ambassador had been so close to the taciturn warden. “For judgement this day, Inquisitor,” Josephine began dully, “I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall.”

The whole room watched in silence with her as Rainer was hauled the length of the hall by two of Cullen’s men. _It’s strange_ , she thought. He had seemed so ready to die back in the city gaol in Val Royeaux, but now he was dragging his feet, much as Josie had done. And he wouldn’t look up. She wished he would meet her eye.

“His crimes,” Josephine continued, before breaking off to take a deep breath. “Well, you are aware of his crimes.” Her voice was softer than usual. There was a sadness there Saibra had never seen in her Ambassador before. “It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours.” Leli and Josie had argued over that point. Leliana maintained that, since Saibra had insisted on having him brought to Skyhold for judgement, they shouldn’t remind people that there were others who arguably had a greater claim. Josephine thought that acknowledging it would reassure any Orlesians present that the Inquisition was taking their concerns into account.

“I didn’t think this would be easy,” she admitted, “but it’s harder than I thought.”

Rainier didn’t look up, but shook his head, chains rattling. “Another thing to regret,” he spat bitterly. “What did you have to do to release me?”

Saibra hadn’t wished to discuss that publicly, but she would not lie. “Josephine called in a few favours,” she shrugged. “There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition.”

“And what happens to the reputation the Ambassador has so carefully cultivated?” Rainier sounded angry on Josie’s behalf, and Saibra wondered how close the two really were. “The world will learn how you’ve used your influence. They’ll know the Inquisition is corrupt.” From the corner of her eye Saibra could see Cullen angrily start forward from his position at the back of the room. Iron Bull, who she had insisted be with Cullen during the judgement, held the Commander back before muttering something in his ear. Cullen glared at Bull but stood at peace.

“Once the world is back to normal, no one will even remember this,” Saibra assured the man before her. 

“ _I’ll_ remember,” he insisted. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it?” Rainier sounded bewildered, the fight gone out of him. “What becomes of me now?”

Saibra took a deep breath and met Cullen’s eye. She knew he was angry at Rainier, and she knew why. Much as he had compared Thom to Samson, he could also see himself in the man; he had made decisions and been complicit in following orders given by Meredith that he was now ashamed of. That was why she had always known what her judgement here would be. In a way, it was the easiest judgement she had ever made. Penitence was hard. But it was necessary.

“Blackwall intended you join the Wardens,” she announced, making sure her voice carried. “I will let them decide your fate.” Rainier ducked his head further. “But only when Corypheus is dead. For now, Thom Rainier, the Inquisition needs you.”

Rainier looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. But his voice remained steady as he replied, “As you command.”

“Blackwall gave you the chance to atone through action, not merely punishment,” Saibra continued. “I find I can do no less.” 

Rainier looked stunned, but bowed elegantly. “I am grateful for this, Inquisitor. And I will serve for as long as I can.”

As the man she had once known as Gordon Blackwall turned to the guards to have his manacles removed, Saibra rose and retreated to her rooms. It was the only place she could go for now and not run the gauntlet of people with opinions of her judgement. As she passed, Josephine whispered a quiet “Thank you”. Saibra smiled at her friend but made no reply, slipping through her door in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm definitely going to have to drop down to one update a week. Business is booming, but as a one-woman show that means I have no one to delegate to and I'm working 12 and 13 hour days six days a week. I'm trying to build myself a better work-life balance but with my MSc starting in a month I still won't have as much time to write as I used to. :(


	39. Out of the Mouths of Babes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen gets busted by a three and six-year-old...

Things had gone quiet after Saibra’s judgement of Blackwall. The revelation that he had never been the man they thought he was had shaken everyone. They all needed time to adjust. So while Harding went to scout out possible Venatori activity in the Hissing Wastes, the inner circle pursued their own interests, whatever those may be. All Cullen knew was that every time he passed through the rotunda going to or from his office it smelled of fresh paint from Solas’ murals and that Varric was desperate to convince him to ask Josie for a rematch at Wicked Grace.

At Saibra’s behest, Cullen had been the first person to offer an olive branch to the disgraced former chevalier. She had been reluctant, he knew, to make the request, but after all he’d asked of her, he couldn’t turn her down. So he had approached Blackwall, all the while repeating the mantra _I will be the one who makes her life easier_ , and asked if he could help train some of the new recruits in shield work. It wasn’t as if he didn’t need the help; some of their recruits looked as if they’d never seen a shield before, let alone knew how to use one. Many of their original recruits were now veterans of Haven and the Siege of Adamant, but they couldn’t afford for those newer recruits to be unprepared if they were to survive the next battle. 

Blackwall–as Saibra insisted on continuing to call him–had looked both surprised and pathetically grateful as he accepted the task. He threw himself into it with relish. Cullen had to admit, as he watched from the battlements, that Blackwall was a good teacher. 

“You have done that man a kindness I am not sure he deserves.”

“I didn’t do it for him,” Cullen told Cassandra as she leaned against the stone next to him. “I did it because Saibra asked.”

She smiled softly. “I suspected as much. I would have done the same if she had asked it of me.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the Seeker. “I suspected you would have thrown him out on his ear, given half a chance.”

Cassandra bristled slightly. “By the Inquisitor’s command he is still a member of the Inquisition, and he continues without complaint. So long as he serves, I will leave him be. But I do not think I will continue our sparring sessions.” 

“And if Saibra asks you to continue them?”

“I will deal with that if she does.” Cassandra glanced down at Blackwall again thoughtfully. “Did you know this is what he was doing when the Inquisitor and I first encountered him?”

Cullen shrugged. “Saibra mentioned it when she asked me to ask for his help. Teaching villagers to defend themselves. Even without the backing of the Inquisition he was trying to do good.”

“I suppose that’s why Varric calls him ‘Hero’.”

“There are worse nicknames,” Cullen retorted, running a hand through his hair. Turning his head, he caught sight of Saibra perched on the edge of the tavern roof with Sera. She caught his eye and gave a small wave. “Maker’s breath, what are they doing up there?”

Cassandra followed his gaze. “It would appear they are eating cookies.” Sera said something that made Saibra roar with laughter before they helped each other to their feet and climbed back in Sera’s window.

Cullen sighed. “That woman will be the death of me.”

………………………………………… 

“Maker’s breath, these are _horrible_ , Saibra!” Cullen dropped the offending cookie back onto his plate in disgust. 

Saibra’s laugh was high and happy. “They are, aren’t they?” She had insisted on him trying one of Sera’s “Inquisition cookies” when he joined her in her room after dinner.

“So why did you insist I have one?” While he was bewildered by her delight at the awful cookies, Cullen was pleased to see her so happy. In spite of everything that had happened with Blackwall, she did–finally–seem to be feeling the burdens of command less. 

“So I could tell Sera you did. She wanted to use them for target pract-“

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Cullen watched her face drop into the mask of the Inquisitor. He could never get used to that, even as he was sure his face was shifting from Cullen to Commander. “Enter.”

The masks lifted away again when Kitty appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by a rather frazzled looking Vastra. The little girl was wearing her nightgown and her feet were bare, a habit Cullen was sure she’d picked up from her Aunt who always kicked off her boots as soon as she got to her rooms and regularly in his office.

“You see, Catalina. Uncle Cullen and Aunt Saibra are in their room. Now it’s _bed time_.”

“No!” The toddler insisted. “Not ready.” She padded across the room to Cullen. “Uncle Cully don’t sleep.”

Vastra threw up her hands in despair. “Of course Uncle Cullen sleeps. Maker’s breath, child, _everyone_ sleeps.”

Cullen could see Saibra fighting back laughter as she bent to her small niece. “Why don’t you think Uncle Cully sleeps, darling?”

Marie’s head popped around the top of the stairwell. She was also in her nightgown. “Because Uncle Cully only comes back to your rooms at night when you’re home, Auntie Sai,” she answered for her sister. The younger girl glared at her sibling before turning back to her aunt and nodding fiercely.

Saibra glanced over to him with raised eyebrows and Cullen couldn’t help rubbing the back of his neck. They had been… debating this for a while now. Saibra wanted him to move into her rooms permanently, he only felt comfortable in those rooms when she was in them. They had come to an impasse, neither side wanting to either back down or let something so silly escalate into a full-blown fight.

“These are your aunt’s rooms, little one,” Cullen said with a sigh. He sat himself down on the rug before the fire, accepting it easily when Kitty crawled into his lap. “I have my own room.”

Large eyes the colour of cornflowers turned up to him. “Where?”

Cullen sighed, guessing what would come next. “Above my office.”

Marie had moved further into the room when she had seen her mother wasn’t going to shoo her away. She had an almost comical look of horror on her small face. “But there’s a big hole in the roof!”

Saibra’s muttered, “That’s what I keep telling him,” was almost entirely drowned out by her sister’s shocked, “There is?”

He found himself being glared down at by the older Trevelyan sister. “Commander Rutherford, if I had known that you were going back to a room with no roof when my sister wasn’t here I would never have allowed it.

Cullen wondered if that tone of voice was reserved for older sisters or if you learned it as a mother. It was the same tone he could hear whenever he read Mia’s letters. And Vastra was five years younger than he was. “There’s a roof. It just has a hole in it.”

“Semantics,” Vastra shot back.

Marie was tugging at Saibra’s sleeve. “Auntie Sai, why don’t you let Uncle Cully stay here when you go away?”

Sai folded herself cross-legged onto the rug facing him and tugged Marie into her lap. Vastra sighed and settled on the sofa, obviously realising she was not going to get either of her daughters into bed anytime soon. “Uncle Cully can come here anytime he wants, Marie Bee. He has a key. If I had a choice he would stay here all the time, but he’s stubborn as a druffalo and I can’t make him do something when I’m not here to enforce it.” Cullen had to resist the temptation to stick his tongue out at her. _Maker’s breath, it’s like being back home with Mia and Rosie._

The small child in his lap wriggled. “Why don’t you wanna stay here, Uncle Cully?”

“They don’t feel like my rooms, little one. This is your Aunt’s place. I don’t want to come in uninvited.”

Saibra’s eyes rolled skywards. “You have an open invitation to come here anytime, Cullen.” She sounded exasperated. “Even if it’s only to escape all those blighted scouts parading through your office and do some work in peace. Even if I’m not here.”

Marie had latched onto something else. “Wouldn’t they feel more like your rooms if you kept your things here, Uncle Cully?”

Vastra and Saibra broke into identical howls of laughter. Cullen felt himself flush and his hand rub the back of his neck.

“She has a point, beloved,” Saibra gasped between giggles. 

Vastra got herself under control more quickly than her sister. “And now I know about the hole in the roof there’s no way I’m going to let you stay there when Saibra’s not here.” Cullen couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction when Vastra turned her glare on Sai. “Why didn’t you tell me about his roof?”

“Oh no, V. I am _not_ letting you get involved in any disputes I have with _my_ betrothed.” Vastra opened her mouth to argue but shut it quickly when Saibra added, “Would you have wanted me to stick my nose into any disagreements you had with Domart?”

“So will you move your things in here, Uncle Cully?” Marie’s stare was as intense as her mother’s when she wanted it to be.

“Fine.” It felt like it had been inevitable ever since Kitty had told them she thought he didn’t sleep. But he did feel a welcome warmth spread through his chest when four identical smiles beamed at him. 

“We help,” Kitty yawned from his lap.

“Not tonight, little Cat,” Vastra smiled fondly at her daughter as she lifted her into her arms. The toddler laid her head against her mother’s shoulder, sucking gently on one of Buddy’s paws. “Bed time now.”

Cullen hurried to help Saibra stand as Marie wrapped her arms around her aunt’s neck. “I’m going to help V get these two settled,” she whispered gently kissing his cheek. “Then I’m going to come back up here and make you very, _very_ pleased you finally changed your mind.”

They were both equally flustered when Marie murmured sleepily, “How are you going to do that, Auntie Sai?”


	40. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen moves in with Sai and has a late night chat with Vastra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, I'm not dead.
> 
> My course is a lot more intense than I expected. I have an exam every fortnight (at 9:30 on Sunday mornings!) and I've had two major essays to hand in over the last six weeks. So my writing's been very sporadic. Sorry.
> 
> The story is absolutely not dead. Cullen and Sai have so much more to say. Just please don't expect this to be updated as often as it has been.

Saibra had been away in the Hissing Wastes for a week. In that week, he’d been more fussed over and cared for than he had allowed anyone but Sai since he left for Templar training.

“I am most put out to find I have neglected you so, brother,” Vastra had told him. When he had tried to make a stuttering protest she had hushed him with a look. “As soon as you decided to marry my sister, you became family. When Domart married me, he got another sister in Saibra. Since the two of you won’t make anything official until you get some nonsense in writing from the Chantry,” here she had made a noise of disgust to rival one of Cassandra’s, “you get me as a sister now. Besides,” and here her smile had softened, “my girls already look to you as an uncle. With Domart gone they need a good man in their lives.”

“And I volunteered willingly for the role,” he smiled back. “They’re good children. And I’m sure they do me as much good as I do them.”

So the morning after Saibra left for the Wastes had seen Cullen trying to work in his office as Vastra, Nettie, and the girls packed his things above his head. He’d endured another scolding from Vastra when she’d seen the full extent of the hole in the roof. The girls seemed to get into everything, and he was grateful that he kept his letters from Sai and Mia in the desk drawer that had once held his lyrium kit. Nettie’s job mainly seemed to be trying to keep either child from falling down the opening into the office.

The biggest laugh of the morning had been when Jim brought him a report from Leliana. On hearing his voice there had been a joyful shout of “Jim!” from upstairs. At Kitty’s voice, the scout had gone pale and was out the door quicker even than he had when facing Cullen’s wrath. The Commander wasn’t entirely sure how Nettie had explained Jim’s hasty retreat to the disappointed toddler; he had been too busy laughing. 

All his belongings had been boxed up by midmorning, and by lunchtime they had been moved to Saibra’s rooms. “They’re your rooms now, Cullen,” Vastra had gently reminded him when he’d slipped and called them that in her presence. Indeed, when he had gone up to unpack that evening, he found Saibra had done as much as possible to make it so. His armour stand now stood next to a new, empty dresser in the dressing room. An extra bookcase had been added to the corner along with a desk at right angles to Saibra’s own. It was as neat as hers was messy, and an inspection of the drawers found it stocked with parchment, ink, the type of quills he favoured, and another copy of the seal they used on their private correspondence. There was even a stand for White Star so he could deliver their letters to these rooms rather than his office.

There was also a letter closed with the same horse and lion seal.

_Beloved Cullen,_

_I know I did not ask, but I hope you approve of the alterations to our rooms I ordered. If you dislike them, or wish them moved to different places, please move them. They are only designed to make you feel comfortable and welcome. I would have made these changes months ago if I thought they would convince you to move in full time. If I had known all it would take was Kitty and Marie I would have cheerfully set them on you long ago!_

_I know all too well how little you have to call your own, my love. You don’t need to fill the drawers or the shelves but put what you have where you will. I want these rooms to be a sanctuary for you, the way you are a sanctuary for me. I am not precious about this space. As long as you are in them, those rooms are home to me._

_I will warn you, though, to lock the door before undressing. Kitty has grown enough to reach the latch and has no qualms about walking straight in. And where Kitty goes to cause mischief, Marie follows to stir the pot!_

_Love, always  
S_

Cullen smiled warmly. He had wondered why Saibra had suddenly become so assiduous about locking the door after he came to her–their–rooms. Their subsequent… activities had always distracted him too much to ask.

_Love,_

_The rooms are perfect. Thank you for thinking of me. I had been wondering where I would store my clothes, and I had expected to have to leave my books in my office. I wonder if I will ever truly stop underestimating you._

_Please do not stay away too long, my love. These rooms may be pleasant and welcoming, but my home is wherever my heart is. At this moment, my heart is far away in the Hissing Wastes._

_Stay safe. I love you.  
C_

It was not just Kitty and Marie intruding at inopportune moments he had to contend with. Leliana and Josephine had somehow discovered just who had persuaded him to finally move out of the loft above his office and took every opportunity to tease him about the great Commander of the Inquisition being bested by two small children. And Vastra was behaving more like a mother than a sister. Fruit and tea were being left in his office while he conducted the dawn drills; she would bring him lunch herself, and she came every evening to drag him to dinner in her rooms or Skyhold’s main hall. He had taken to leaving Jim instructions on which papers to take to his new rooms each night; Vastra would not release him until after Kitty and Marie were in bed, and she would not let him return to his office at that hour.

But a week seemed to be all the peace his blighted brain would allow him. On the seventh night of her trip he dreamed of her. Dreamed of Meredith watching and laughing as Samson applied the sunburst brand to Saibra’s beautiful face. He woke choking on his own screams.

His heart hadn’t even stopped pounding when there was a banging on the door. “Cullen? Cullen! Let me in, brother.” His hands shook wildly as he fumbled with the latch. He knew better by now than to turn Lady Vastra away. 

She took one look at him and sighed. He found himself being guided gently to the couch and in only a moment a warm mug of tea was in his hands. Vastra seemed content to sit in silence, her own mug warming her hands until he was ready to speak.

“I am truly sorry if I woke you, Lady Vastra.” The months of prompting from Saibra and eyerolls from her sister had mostly cured him of his habit of invoking her title. If she noticed the slip, for once she made no comment.

“It is nothing. Six years of motherhood have made me a light sleeper. No one who cries out like that should have to face the night alone.” In the daytime Vastra could be harsh, demanding. As heiress to a Bannorn she was used to being obeyed and that could make her abrasive. Tonight, she was showing him the softness she usually only showed as a mother. “Is it your illness?” she asked gently. “Skint wouldn’t tell me what it is that ails you, just that it is chronic and causes you great pain.”

He shook his head, ashamed to meet her eye. “Not tonight. Tonight it was simply nightmares from a life I am ashamed I once lived.”

The smile was still soft. “I have read _Tale of the Champion_ , Cullen. From what I can tell you did the best you could in a bad situation.” 

“Varric was kinder to me in that book than I deserved.”

The noise she made was dismissive. “Varric may enjoy his exaggerations, but I don’t believe he lied about who anyone was. You were a good man who had seen some terrible things, and you did what you could.” She smiled at him. “You know he tells the girls stories about how much good you did there after everything fell apart?”

Cullen didn’t know that. He had been barely keeping his head above water, fighting between the need to repair some of the damage he had done and a desire to run from the Order that was no longer the force for good he had once believed. Helping with the repair works, working with Guard Captain Aveline to keep the streets safe for Kirkwall’s citizens, co-ordinating relief efforts, had all been balms to a conscience that ate at him night and day. When Cassandra had offered him a place with the Inquisition he had jumped at the chance to be anywhere but there. He still felt guilty about all the unfinished work he had left behind. 

He realised that he was starting to feel drowsy and glanced up accusingly at Vastra. “What did you give me?”

“Just a tea that Mama used to make to help her insomnia. Saibra keeps some here.” She raised him to his feet, and he swayed unsteadily.

“You drugged me,” he muttered reproachfully, suddenly too tired to argue further as she steered him towards the bed.

“I encouraged your body to give you the rest you need. You’ll wake clear-headed at your usual hour, Commander. Now let’s get you back into bed.”

He felt as much a child as Marie or Kitty as she pulled the blankets up over him and stroked his curls. The last thing he heard was a soft, “Sleep sweet, Cullen,” and a gentle kiss pressed to his forehead as he drifted into the darkness.

Two days later, White Star brought him a frantic note.

_Beloved,_

_Vastra wrote me you’d been sleeping poorly. Are you well? Is it the lyrium? Say the word and I will return immediately. The threat here isn’t nearly as dire as Harding’s report suggested._

_I love you,  
S_

He smiled, suspecting something of the sort when White Star had vanished. He moved to his desk at once, knowing that if he delayed in replying she would fly back without asking and then he would have to endure her and Leliana scolding.

_Love,_

_I am as well as I ever am when you are far from me. They are nightmares, nothing more. My cravings are manageable and there is nothing you can do for me here that Vastra isn’t doing already. Though I would appreciate it if she asked before drugging me._

_Tell Varric that we need to talk when he gets back. Over a beer._ No _cards._

_Finish your work then hurry home, sweetling. I love and miss you, always._

_Your C_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During my haitus, I did manage to push out one short that takes place somewhere in the middle of this chapter ( [Making the Lion Roar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8189845)) for [thesecondseal's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecondseal) Kissing Day Festival on Tumblr.
> 
> Yes, I have now succumbed to Tumblr. Visit me at [saibrarutherford](http://saibrarutherford.tumblr.com/) . I'd love to see you there.


	41. Eluvian, Eluvian, on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saibra returns to Skyhold and Morrigan has a surprise for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for what is, quite possibly, the worst chapter title ever.

In the end it wasn’t Cullen who called Saibra back from the Wastes; it was Leliana. It had been easy to discover that Corypheus’ followers had abandoned all their previous strongholds after the Inquisition’s victory at Adamant. What had been less easy to discover was where he had pulled them back to. Finally, Leliana’s work had paid off.

These days, Cullen had no qualms about greeting Saibra and her party publicly when they returned from missions and it was with a smile he swung her off Solace and into his arms. She pressed forward into him for the sweetest of brief kisses before sliding her Inquisitor’s mask back on. “Commander, I take it that my presence is required in the War Room?”

“At your convenience, Inquisitor.” Cullen noticed Blackwall kept his head down as he stepped forward to take Solace’s reigns. Probably due to his quarters being above the stables he had always eagerly taken the task of settling Saibra’s horse when she could not. He had never been conspicuous about it but now he seemed to be trying to be even more discreet than usual. Clearly, three weeks in the Hissing Wastes hadn’t convinced him that he was to be forgiven. By Saibra at least.

Saibra allowed Cullen to take her arm and lead her towards the stairs. “How are you, beloved?” she asked quietly when they were a few paces out of earshot from her companions. 

He smiled down at her. A warm, genuine smile that tugged at his scar and made her heart twist with desire for him. “Truly, I am fine. A few nightmares. I’m sure I would have had them even if you had been here. Even the headaches seem less intense.”

Saibra’s smile matched his own. “I’m glad.” Then she frowned slightly. “You did like the space I created for you in our rooms, didn’t you?” she asked, nerves getting the better of her. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but I so wanted you to feel at home. Was it too much?”

They had reached the landing where she had stood to be declared Inquisitor. Cullen spun her into his arms and kissed her, effectively silencing her fears. “They were perfect, love. You are perfect. Never doubt it.” 

As if they hadn’t paused at all, he took her arm back and continued to lead her up the stairs when there was a shout from down below. “Hey, Curly!” Cullen glared down at Varric, who grinned up at him. “See you in the Rest after supper. If you can tear yourself away from Duchess, that is.”

“He’ll be there,” Saibra called back. “I have a date with two little girls and a bedtime story.” She grinned wickedly. “Don’t keep him out too late.”

Cullen sighed as she tugged him up the stairs. “He doesn’t need any encouragement, you know.”

“I know,” she grinned. “I just love to see you blush. What do you want to see him for anyway?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I want to thank him actually. Vastra says he’s been telling the girls flattering stories about me.”

Saibra smiled again. “You are such a gentleman, Cullen. He’s been doing it for ages. I don’t think he would expect any thanks.”

At the door to the War Room they wordlessly uncoupled and had their professional masks back in place.

“Welcome home, Inquisitor,” Josephine beamed at her. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

“It will be more pleasant once I can get into a bath and scrub all this sand out my skin. If I never see another desert it will be too soon.” She smiled at her Ambassador. “Have I mentioned how grateful I am that you sourced a private bathtub for me?”

Josie smiled back. “Several times, Inquisitor. But it never hurts to hear it again.”

Leliana was more business-like. “Inquisitor, I hope you don’t mind if Morrigan joins us? She says she has information that will help us in our planning.”

Saibra nodded formally to Morrigan, while glancing at Cullen under her lashes. She knew Morrigan had seen him at Kinloch and he had been avoiding her. For her part, Morrigan seemed content to keep away. It was entirely possible she did not realise he was the same man. “I will gladly accept any help you can give us, Lady Morrigan.” She turned to the Spymistress. “Leliana, your intelligence, please.”

Leliana acknowledged her with a nod of her own. “Corypheus has sent his armies marching south into the Arbor Wilds.”

Cullen was looking at the papers he had picked up on entering the room. Lifting his head, he smiled up at her. “The march appears disorganised. They clearly weren’t prepared to have to retreat so quickly. Our victories have them on the defensive.”

“If he’s hiding in the Arbor Wilds,” Saibra thought aloud, “that’s where we finish him.”

Josephine seemed perplexed. “But what is Corypheus doing in such a remote area?”

“His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven,” Leliana remarked thoughtfully. 

“True enough,” Cullen conceded. “You’ve found his people in ruins everywhere you’ve been in the Dales. Did Solas seem to have any idea what they could be searching for?”

Saibra shook her head. “Not just the Dales. Even places like Solasan in the Forbidden Oasis. But Solas hasn’t mentioned any possible link between them. Then again, I haven’t exactly asked.”

“So,” Leliana summarised, “what he hopes to find continues to elude us.”

“Which should surprise no one.” Saibra jumped, having forgotten Morrigan was in the room. “Fortunately, _I_ can assist.”

“You have my attention, Lady Morrigan,” Saibra told the mage cautiously. Though Morrigan had been at Skyhold for months, her attempts to get to know the other woman had fallen flat. Leliana had told her not to worry about it, but it grated that she didn’t yet have a read on, or trust, Celene’s mystical advisor. 

Morrigan turned those unsettling eyes of hers on Saibra. “What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous.”

“Which is?” Saibra prompted.

“’Tis best… if I show you.” The mage turned and sauntered out the room.

“Sa- Inquisitor,” Cullen called as Saibra turned to follow. She looked back at him, registering with ease the worry in his eyes. “Do you wish an escort?”

“Your Commander may accompany us, if he so desires.” Morrigan’s voice floated back to them.

Cullen didn’t need telling twice. “Thank the Maker,” she heard him mutter as he rounded the War Table so they could follow side-by-side.

Morrigan led them through the main hall, into the gardens and to a small room adjacent to the Chantry hall. Most of the furniture was covered in dust sheets, but dominating the room was a massive shape, a faint light seeming to emanate from under the sheet over it. A swift tug of the sheet from Morrigan revealed a mirror, its blue surface swirling and shifting in undulating patterns. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen breathed in awe.

“This,” Morrigan announced sounding faintly satisfied, “is an eluvian. An elven artefact from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks.”

“It’s…” Saibra struggled for words. “Beautiful,” she finally decided. “In its way.”

“I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his.”

“What does it do?” Cullen asked. He could see the magic in it, but the lyrium levels in his blood had now dropped too low for him to feel it. That, in itself, was a strange sensation.

Morrigan made a strange gesture, and it was as if a blue light exploded from her the eluvian. It shone more brightly, and the movement beneath its surface became more hurried. Almost purposeful.

“A more appropriate question,” Morrigan chided, “would be ‘where does it lead?’”

She stepped towards the device and simply disappeared inside of it. Saibra looked at Cullen, shrugged, and followed. Immediately the runes around Cullen’s wrist went out. Any qualms he had about going into the eluvian after them were silenced. Without hesitation, he followed. 

………………………………………… 

Cullen stumbled out of the eluvian and into a blue-tinged world of strange trees, ruined statues and fountains, and miles of eluvians. Saibra and Morrigan spun to face him. Morrigan’s eyes rolled skywards, but Saibra took a step towards him, looking worried. “Cullen?”

He shook his head, smiling and feeling slightly foolish now. “I’m okay. My runes went out.”

Saibra smiled back. “I need to stop doing that to you.”

Now his panic had subsided he was able to fully take in the ruined splendour of where they were. “What is this place?”

“If this place once had a name, it has long been lost.” Morrigan told them softly. “I call it The Crossroads, a place where all eluvians join… wherever they might be.”

Saibra seemed to read Cullen’s mind. “Is this place dangerous? It feels…”

“Unnatural, yes,” Morrigan agreed. “We are, however, in no immediate peril. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they travelled between them.” She waved at the miles of eluvians stretching into the distance. “As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark; broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest… a few can be opened from this side. But only a few.”

“What do you mean, ‘a few can be opened from this side’?” Cullen asked. “Is this a danger to Skyhold?”

Morrigan shrugged. “Some of the eluvians have been left unlocked, like doors accidentally left ajar. All others are closed. They can be opened only from beyond.”

“Opened how?” he asked suspiciously.

“With a key,” Morrigan sighed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And I suppose _you_ have such a key?” he sniped back. This place set his nerves on edge. It was beautiful, yes. But a desire demon had once taught him that beautiful things were sometimes the most dangerous.

The mage shrugged again. “The key can be many things. Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often that is enough.”

“This place isn’t natural. It almost seems… constructed.” Saibra’s voice sounded pained, even to her own ears. Cullen stepped up closer behind her, guarding her as always. She was comforted by the feel of the heat rolling off him. Once she had thought his permanent heat to be part of his withdrawal, a constant low-grade fever. Now she was convinced it was the Ferelden in him, keeping out the cold. Her voice was firmer with his strength behind her. “It’s as if someone made a pocket within the Fade, with its own rules of reality. If the ancient elves could do this…”

“It seems remarkable that the Magisters of Tevinter could ever challenge them, yes.” Morrigan’s voice was wry and Saibra wasn’t sure if the other mage was amused by her theories or by Cullen’s protectiveness. 

“It’s deteriorating.” Saibra observed. “Eventually this place will simply collapse on itself.”

“Who can say how old it is. For now it stands, and thus retains its value.” 

“How did you find out about this place?” Cullen asked. He still wasn’t quite willing to trust the strange mage, even if she had once travelled with Leliana and the Hero of Ferelden. 

“My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Commander. Once, they led me here. It offered sanctuary.” 

“Sanctuary?” Saibra asked. Morrigan had sounded sad. That mask of indifference she always wore had slipped. 

“Not all the mirrors lead back to _our_ world. The ancients were nothing if not… resourceful.” 

Cullen tensed behind Saibra. “If they don’t lead back to our world, then…?”

“Places between, like this one.” Morrigan smiled enigmatically. “I can describe it no better. For a time, I was safe from those who hunted me. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever.”

“And Corypheus wants to come… here?” Saibra worried. 

“This is not the Fade,” Morrigan explained, “but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…”

“And enter the Fade in the flesh,” Saibra finished for her. “Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor.” 

“He learned of the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it.” She turned and headed back for the eluvian they had come out of. “You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him, and soon.”

Morrigan stepped through the eluvian. Saibra looked at Cullen. He was pale and there was worry in his eyes. He caught her looking at him and smiled faintly. “I suppose we should get back to the War Room, Inquisitor. It looks like we’ll be planning an assault on the Arbour Wilds.”

Saibra took his hand. “Together then.” And they walked through the Eluvian side-by-side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really rough couple of weeks, but I wanted to get this posted before the end of the year. 
> 
> I hope that in the next few weeks, I'll be confident enough to start posting a new story alongside this. It's a lot longer and darker. If you've been keeping an eye on my Tumblr, you might have seen some references to my new OC Lily. She's very troubled and damaged and she needs a lot of help from our favourite Inquisition members. I really hope you guys like her as much as you seem to like Sai.
> 
> Happy New Year, to all my wonderful readers.


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